


Relearn How to Breathe

by myryry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Alteration, References to Season 6 Spoilers, Romance, Stydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myryry/pseuds/myryry
Summary: Stiles sees her for the first time on a Thursday morning, ordering her annoyingly complicated coffee in her distractingly short dress. She's all he can focus on from the moment he first lays eyes on her.
Really, though, he just can't remember all the thousands of times he's seen Lydia Martin before.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles sees her for the first time on a Thursday morning.

The hem of her dress is distractingly high and her drink order is annoyingly complicated. She’s all he can focus on from his place behind her in line.

The click of her heels echoes through the coffee shop when she finally steps down the counter to wait for her order, her long red hair swaying behind her narrow shoulders. 

He orders his black coffee as quickly as he can before trailing after her. 

Completely absorbed in her phone, she doesn’t notice him trying to catch her eye from where he leans against the counter a few feet away.

“Lydia?”

Her eyes snap up from the screen and over to the barista at the name and he stows away the information along with a seared image of the way her dress clings to her waist.

Drink in hand, she turns toward the exit, toward him, and their eyes finally meet.

His heart stutters at those green eyes and the hint of a smirk on her full lips as she takes him in.

All he can manage to do is nod at her as she passes, voice caught in his throat and cheeks overheating. Then she’s gone and his coffee is ready and he’s kicking himself for freezing up, thinking there’s no way he’ll ever see her again.

Except he does see her again. The very next day and the day after that in the same coffee house at the same time. It becomes an annoying routine where every single morning she’s wrapped up in her phone and then out the door before he even gets his order. 

He’s beginning to think he’ll never get a chance to actually talk to her at all when he happens upon her in the park late one Sunday afternoon a couple weeks later, reading on a bench in the waning sunlight.

Out of breath and nearing the end of his run, his feet stutter to a halt on the sidewalk in front of her, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. He expects her to look up, knows she must have heard him by now, but she doesn’t flinch for even a second from her book, the title of which he can’t even pronounce.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s impolite to stare?” she tuts as she turns the page.

He smiles at her raspy voice as he stands straight and wipes his sweaty brow. “I wouldn’t call it staring, more like observing.”

“Do you really think calling it something different will make it seem less creepy?”

“Well there are things I could call it that would definitely make it seem more creepy, so yeah.”

The sun glints off her hair when she tilts her head to look up at him and he realizes he was all wrong about it being red. It’s definitely something else all together.

Tentatively she closes her book and lets her green eyes narrow. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely not helping out the creep factor with that one,” she comments but there’s a smirk curling her lips as she says it. Suddenly it seems to dawn on her. “Oh, wait, I know you. You’re _black coffee_.”

“Did you _nickname_ me after my coffee order?” he wonders with a big goofy grin. “Who’s the creep now?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a creep, I just pay attention to my surroundings.”

“Do you really thinking calling it something else will make it seem-“

“Shut up,” she cuts him off but she’s starting to smile despite herself. “I will not sit here and be sassed by _black coffee_.”

“Whatever you say, _Lydia_.”

“You know _my name_?”

“What? I pay attention too,” he defends himself, “and there’s no way in hell I’m ratting off that long string of nonsense you have the audacity to still call coffee.”

Her shoulders relax at his explanation, a small smile curling her lips as she pushes herself off the bench to stand before him. “Some of us have refined tastes.”

“Whatever you want to call it, doesn’t make it any less ridiculous,” he shrugs becoming distracted as he appraises her from so close, barely a foot of space between them. It’s the first time he notices the few freckles scattered across her nose.

“Well, maybe someday you’ll be able to rattle off that string of nonsense and impress me,” she teases him coyly as she starts to walk away, “until then, I guess I’ll just see you around.”

He smirks at her. “Yeah. See you around.”

_Strawberry blonde_. Her hair isn’t red he decides as he watches her disappear down the sidewalk, it’s strawberry blonde.

 

———

 

He’s waiting for her outside when she gets to the coffee shop the next morning, a cup in each hand.

She rolls her eyes at the sight of him, her heels clicking to a stop when he steps in her path.

Silently he hands her a cup, a cocky smirk already curling his lips.

She sips at it and lets the liquid swirl around on her tongue as she appraises it. “I’m impressed,” she admits, eyeing him with interest. “I thought you said you didn’t know the string of nonsense I deign to call coffee.”

“I never said I didn’t know it. I said I refused to call you by it, especially when I already knew your name.”

“And yet I still don’t know yours.”

He grins and nods toward her drink. “It’s on the cup. Along with my number, you know, incase you need it.”

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.”

Turning the cup in her hand her face falls at the name written in the barista’s messy black marker with even messier numbers scrawled underneath, presumably in his handwriting.

“Your- Your name is _Stiles?_ ”

“It is. And yes, that is _really_ my name,” he confirms with an eye roll because he’s had this conversation a million times. “Not my legal one, of course, but I gave up on that one when I was about four because even _I_ couldn’t pronounce it.”

A beat passes, her eyes turning glassy as they dart across his face before she realizes herself. “Sorry, it’s just… I, uh, I’ve heard that name before.”

“Really? How is that possible?” He laughs at the idea, amber eyes full of mirth. “I don’t even think it’s a real name.”

“I didn’t think so either,” she mutters to herself and then shakes her head to clear it. “Well, _Stiles…_ Thank you for the coffee. I should really get going though.”

“Of course,” he quickly agrees, trying to hide his disappointment and remind himself that she always leaves right away. “I need to get to work and you need to get off to your busy day and all the important things you have to do…”

She smirks at him and shrugs. “Something like that.”

He nods and an awkward beat passes as he struggles with what to say next. “So I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.”

“That would be safe to assume at this point, yes.”

“And maybe tomorrow night?” he blurts before he loses his nerve and then promptly spirals into a horrifying bout of nervous rambling. “Because you know, there is this really good restaurant just a couple blocks down the street from here. I’m honestly convinced they have the best pasta in the world and you should definitely try it. Well, I mean, that is if you like pasta. Or really Italian food in general at all because they have way more than just pasta. If you don’t like Italian though, then there’s-“

“I like Italian food.”

“You do?” he repeats dumbly, his heart jumping in excitement because she’s just barely smiling when she says it and he’s pretty sure that means yes. “Great. That’s- That’s really great.”

“I’ll text you to to figure out a time or we could talk about it tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, either way. Both of those sound like very good options.”

Lydia chuckles under her breath at him and there’s something fond and familiar about it. When she walks away and glances back after only a few steps with her green eyes hesitant, he quickly waves at her, hand flailing out like an absolute idiot. He’d be dying with embarrassed right then if it didn’t make her roll her eyes at him in this totally adorable way.

He checks his phone about a million times that day but there’s never a message from her. By the next morning he’s convinced she’s changed her mind, thinks she must have realized how out of his league she is once she had a chance to think it over.

But she’s waiting for him outside the coffee house when he gets there the next morning, a cup in each hand.

“7 o’clock?” she asks by way of greeting as she hands over his black coffee.

Instantly he’s beaming and nodding fast enough to give himself whiplash. “7 o’clock.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up at him and she touches his arm as she steps past him. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you, Lydia.” He watches her walk away, waving when she looks back just like the day before. He turns his cup to take a sip and that’s when he sees her name in the barista’s black marker and a phone number written underneath it written in near perfect handwriting. 

After that, nothing can erase the grin from his lips.

The day seems to pass somehow unbearably slow and ridiculously fast at the same time. Before he knows it, he’s trying to stop his heart’s anxious pounding and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt as he rushes through the apartment.

“Wow, someone is really dressed up for a Stilinski family dinner night. Did the sheriff institute a dress code after you showed up in sweats last week?” Scott teases him from his spot at the table when he steps into the kitchen.

“Family dinner has been rescheduled,” he informs his best friend as he finally gets the buttons on his shirt to cooperate. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Really?” Kira blurts around her mouthful of pizza. “A date?”

“Yes, a date. With an actual breathing, living human female,” Stiles explains with a roll of his eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Of course not,” Kira swallows and tries to backtrack, eyes begging her boyfriend for help. “It’s just- Well, you know, that-“

“It’s Beacon Hills,” Scott finishes for her. “Around here, you never know if someone who looks like an actual human female is actually a human female.”

Stiles smirks. “Well this girl… She’s good. I have a sense about these things, you know?”

“We know, man.”

“Well tell us about her,” Kira all but demands after a beat, genuinely excited for him. “What’s her name? Where’s she from? What does she do?”

“Well, her name’s Lydia.”

Scott and Kira both go still, eyes darting to meet each other’s across the table.

“Beyond that, I don’t really know much about her except that she drinks ridiculously elaborate coffee and apparently always wears high-heels. Hopefully I’ll have more to report after tonight.”

The second he stops talking, Kira and Scott scramble to take bites of their pizza, letting the silence stretch out and grow awkward as they chew and chew and chew. Stiles eyes the two of them strangely but he’s too preoccupied to really care and within seconds he’s totally forgotten anything unusual even happened. 

“Shit, I gotta go,” he mutters as he catches sight of the digital clock on the stove. “Cross your fingers she doesn’t realize how completely out of my league she is.”

He swipes up his keys and the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way home and then he’s off without even noticing the heavy silence he’s leaving behind.

 

———

 

Stiles feels like he is starting to put together some of the pieces that make up Lydia Martin.

Over the course of dinner, he learns that she’s studying mathematics and microbiology at MIT and she spends her days locked away, compiling her research for her thesis. He finds out that she’s an only child, like he is, but unlike him she’s not close with her family at all. He learns that she doesn’t bat an eye when he suggests that she’s a genius because she knows but somehow manages to look a bit bashful when he tells her how beautiful she looks.

“Thank you again for dinner. I had a surprisingly good time.”

“Surprisingly?” He also now knows that she has absolutely no qualms about being blunt as hell.

“Well, can you blame me for having my doubts when all I knew about you is that you have the most basic and boring coffee order in the world?”

He can’t help but grin as he shakes his head at her. “I’d prefer to think of it as reliable, but when you put it that way…”

“Nothing wrong with being reliable.” Her green eyes soften on him as they hover in the cool night air outside the restaurant. “So I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” He grins before looking around them into the night. “Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Oh, I walked here.”

“You _walked_ here?” he repeats incredulously, eyes darting to her heels. “In _those?_ ”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s not even a mile-“

“Well, I’m parked over there. I can give you a ride home.”

“It’s fine. I can walk.”

“Lydia, I am intimately familiar with the high level of violent crime in this town, especially after dark, so I can’t in good conscience let you do that.”

“Let me? I’m sorry _Detective Stilinski_ but-”

“You know, it sounds like you’re saying that sarcastically but that _is_ actually my title-“

“-I can take care of myself.”

“And I don’t doubt that for a second, just…“ he shrugs at her, amber eyes turning all big and pleading. “Just humor me? Please?

She crosses her arms, eyes narrowed on him and he just pouts out his bottom lip at her, unrelenting. Eventually she gives in with a big huff. “Fine.”

Instantly he relaxes, smiling over at her in relief. “Thank you.”

She pretends to be annoyed as she follows him down the sidewalk even though she’s anything but. He looks both ways when they stop on the curb and then flattens his palm on the small of her back to guide her safely across the street.

Her green eyes are warm when she sneaks a glance at him but she looks away too quickly for him to really read her.

“No squad car? I’m disappointed,” she comments as he leads her to his Jeep and opens the passenger side for her. “I kind of wanted to guilt you into turning on the siren.”

“Like I said, I’m a detective not a cop. Which, I admit, has some downfalls like no sirens for speeding through red lights but there are some definite perks like no uniforms.”

“That might actually be a downfall as well, depending on what you’re into.”

He pauses at that, his cheeks growing ruddy and pink. “Well, uh, yeah, I- I guess, I mean-“

“Stiles?” she interrupts, hiding a smirk.

“Yeah?”

“Just drive.”

“Okay.”

The ride to her house is unbelievably quick and the only conversation there’s really time for is her instructions of where to turn.

“It’s my parents’ house,” Lydia explains when they pull up in front of what Stiles’s would call a mansion. “Well, my mom’s really but she’s basically living with her new boyfriend in San Francisco so she doesn’t even know I’ve been staying here.”

“Looks cozy,” he snarks as he walks her to the front door, unsure of what to say. Thankfully she seems to find it amusing.

“I didn’t tell you earlier but I had a really good time too.” His voice and eyes are all soft when they stop in front of her door. “Not surprised about it though.”

Lydia rolls her eyes with a smile. “Oh, so you just knew it would be good?”

“I did,” he easily answers, stepping boldly closer to her.

All the usual build up at the end of a date kiss is there. The heart pounding, the darting eyes, and the sudden, tension-filled silence.

Lydia tilts her head and her green irises trail from his eyes to his mouth and right back again. He knows she’s expecting him to kiss her and he really, really wants to, so he’s not exactly sure why he doesn’t. What he does instead is slip his arms around her around waist, tucking his chin over her shoulder as he steps into her and hugs her.

For the briefest of moments, Lydia’s entire body goes rigid against him and he’s beyond terrified that he’s made an awful misstep. He’s too panicked to do anything but stand there and internally freak out though, and right before he gathers himself enough to step back and apologize profusely, he feels her hesitantly relax into him. Slowly she turns and rests her cheek against his, tentatively wraps her arms around him as he splays his hands against her spine to hold her close.

Stiles takes a shaky breath against her, caught off guard at the torrent of feelings that suddenly swell inside him and overwhelm him.

Abruptly, Lydia pulls back and steps out of his arms but her fingers linger on the end of his sleeve as she gapes at him, green eyes wide and shining. 

Moments pass as they watch each other in fascination, trying to gather themselves and figure out what the hell just happened.

She swallows roughly and finally lets his hand fall from her grasp. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night, Lydia,” he shakily whispers, taking a step back but never looking away.

His mind is racing too fast for him to process anything as he drives home, and by the time he steps into the apartment and Scott and Kira descend on him with a million questions, he already knows he’s head over heels.

“It went well,” he offers them as his only assessment of the evening before heading straight to his room, his bright eyes and dopey smile telling them more than his words ever could.

 

———

 

The next morning, he purposefully leaves much earlier than usual and the whole world seems so much more calm and peaceful with the sun just peaking up over the horizon and so few cars on the road. 

He parks in front of her house and gets out, leaning back on the Jeep to wait while his pulse thrums anxiously.

Lydia steps out of the house after only a few minutes, swinging her purse over her shoulder while the heels of her boots echo in the quiet of the early morning. Her eyes catch on him when she turns around and she quickly stutters to a halt.

“Hey,” he greets her through his nervous smile as he pushes himself off his car towards her.

“Hey,” she calls back curiously, slowly moving to meet him halfway. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs and digs his hands into his pockets. “I was hoping it would be okay if I walked with you to get coffee this morning?”

She tries to hide the grin tugging at her lips as she scrutinizes him but it’s impossible. “I guess I’ll allow it.”

He chuckles and scrambles to follow her lead when she starts down the street without ant further discussion.

They quickly fall back into the flow of conversation they’d established the night before. They banter back and forth like verbal sparring partners until he makes her laugh out loud at some witticism. Then she shoots right back and has him chuckling and grinning and wondering how this woman can be so perfect.

By the time they are waiting in line to order, they’re holding hands and standing close with their heads bowed together as they whisper. Lydia even pulls him over to a table after they get their drinks instead of heading straight for the door like normal. 

It makes his smile grow so big that his cheeks hurt.

“You should come over tomorrow night,” she half suggests, half demands of him when they’re standing next to his Jeep again. “I’d say I’d make us dinner but with my culinary skills it’s probably best if we just get takeout.”

“I can cook. You can come to my place tomorrow and I’ll make you dinner.” His eyes light up as they roam her face and suddenly he’s blurting more plans out. “Tonight, though, you should let me take you out again. To dinner or a movie or anywhere really-”

“Tonight? We just had our first date last night and we spent all morning together.”

“Yeah, it’s probably too much, right?” he asks but he’s still grinning and after a beat he shakes his head and instantly takes it back. “I gotta tell you, Lydia, it doesn’t feel like too much. Am I crazy?”

“You might be,” she teases, shaking her head at him. “But I don’t know, somehow it doesn’t seem as crazy as it definitely should.”

“So I can see you again tonight?”

She seems uncertain as her eyes study him but she still nods, just barely, and his heart soars.

He leans in and hugs her again and she melts into it, holding him tighter than she did the night before. 

And when they are standing in the exact same spot that night, saying goodbyes after their second date, Lydia leans in first and wraps him up in a tight hug that feels unbelievably sure.

“I’ve never dated anyone like you before,” she whispers with her cheek pressed against the side of his neck.

“In a good way I hope.”

“I think so. It feels like it.” She pulls back enough to hesitantly meets his gaze. “It’s just that, well- This isn’t really like me. I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

“What? You mean going out to dinner and having conversations?” he gently teases and rubs his palm across her back.

She just barely shrugs and her voice is small when she admits, “Yes.”

His face falls and grows serious as he automatically pulls her closer. “Lydia-“

“Will you come in the morning again?” she cuts him off, trying to change the subject before he can say anything but still sounding so vulnerable, “To walk with me to the coffee shop?”

His mouth quirks up at her, eyes all soft. “Of course.”

He kisses her goodnight then but it’s on the cheek and it’s so reverential that it has her swallowing hard like she’s trying to keep herself in check.

“Thank you,” she whispers and somehow he knows that he shouldn’t ask her what for.

 

———

 

“Thank god,” Stiles sighs in relief as he opens the passenger door for Lydia, “Building’s still here.”

She raises a brow at him. “Was there a chance that it wouldn’t be?”

“Well no, not really. But potentially, yes, totally,” he mutters as he leads her inside. “See, I left the food on the stove and in the oven so it wouldn’t get cold, at the lowest possible temperature of course, but you never know.”

“Doesn’t it take maybe fifteen minutes to drive to my house? And that’s including driving back.”

“Have you ever used a match before? Fires take, like, half a second to start.”

“Do you always over exaggerate things so much?”

“You’ll get used to it,” he sarcastically assures her but the implication behind his simple statement hits him once it’s already out there, too late to take it back.

He glances over at her cautiously as he unlocks the apartment but she doesn’t seem bothered, in fact she seems highly amused.

“Stiles! What the hell?”

“Damn it,” he hisses at the sound of his best friend screaming from the kitchen and immediately turns to her apologetically. “Sorry, that’s Scott. Remember I told you I live with him and Kira? Well, he likes to over exaggerate things too.”

She chuckles at the stomping she can hear from the other room. “Sounds like it.”

Scott suddenly peaks around the corner at them, eyes too wide and mouth agape as he hones in on the strawberry blonde.

“Sorry man, I was making dinner but I had to go pick up Lydia because she doesn’t have a car and-“ Stiles abruptly cuts himself off and shakes his head at himself and his idiotic rambling. “Sorry, again. I’m being totally rude. Lydia, like I said, this is my best friend and very forgiving roommate Scott. And Scott, this is my… my- uh-“

“Lydia?” Scott questions shakily, looking between the two of them in awe.

Stiles grins at that. “Yeah, this is my Lydia.”

“Oh, god,” Lydia rolls her eyes and steps around him to offer her hand to Scott. “It’s nice to meet you. Stiles has told me so much about you.”

Scott doesn’t move, only continues to stare at her with increasingly moist brown eyes.

“Scott?” Stiles grinds out sharply when a beat too long passes and Lydia starts to shrink back in uncertainty at his best friend’s reaction.

“Right, right. Sorry,” Scott tries to recover when he snaps out of it and shoots his hand out to take hers. “I’m just in kind of a rush and Stiles leaving everything out and on in the kitchen threw me totally off-“

“See? Over exaggerating.”

Lydia smiles over at Stiles and Scott takes the opportunity to pull his hand away from hers as quickly as possible.

Stiles notes the alpha’s strange behavior and eyes him suspiciously. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“Late for dinner with Kira and her parents but I forgot my wallet so I had to stop and grab it,” he explains, trying to make his way to the door as quickly as possible without seeming rude. “I should really get going but it was nice to, uh — to meet you, Lydia.”

“You too.”

“Can you excuse us for a minute?” Stiles asks Lydia and, off her nod, quickly follows his best friend out into the hallway before he can get away.

“Hey, is something going on?” Stiles demands in a sharp whisper. “Did something happen?”

Scott swallows and shakes his head. “No, man. I’m just in a rush like I said.”

“You’re a terrible liar but I don’t have time to not believe you right now.”

“Whatever, man,” Scott retorts but he doesn’t turn and leave like he should. Instead he lingers for a moment, chewing his lip and eyeing the apartment door before finally asking, “So uh- you and her? How is that going?”

“Great. It’s- It’s really, really great man.” A goofy grin curls his lips. “I’ve never, ever felt this way before.”

“Well sure but it’s only been a few days-“

“I know. It makes absolutely no sense and it’s so unbelievably fast but honestly, we get along so well it’s like I’ve knows her forever.”

Scott drops his gaze, looks anywhere but at Stiles. “I gotta go- I- I’ll see you later.”

“Scott?” Stiles calls out in confusion but his best friend has already turned away and is quickly heading down the hallway.

When he lets himself back in the apartment, Lydia is carefully studying the collection of framed pictures Kira has set up on the mantel. Something about it makes him smile all over again.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes as he steps up to her side. “He can be kind of weird sometimes.”

“ _You_ can be kind of weird sometimes,” Lydia shrugs, her eyes still scanning the photos. Her fingers reach out and graze one of the frames, the picture inside catching her attention. “You guys are really close, huh?”

He looks closer at the photo shes’ so focused on. It’s from the day they moved into this place, the three of them huddled together on their piece of crap couch and surrounded by a million boxes. “Yeah, Scott’s my best friend. He’s basically my brother. It was supposed to be just us moving in here but Kira and Scott got back together right before we signed the lease so…” He shrugs with a soft smile. “She’s grown on me I guess, though. She really loves Scott.”

Lydia simply nods and drops her hand back to her side, remaining silent as she looks at more of the pictures.

Hesitantly, Stiles takes her hand in his, intertwining their fingers as he studies her profile. “You know, you haven’t told me anything about your friends.”

She shrugs and curls her fingers around his. “There’s not really much to tell.”

The hint of sorrow in her voice then makes him ache with the overwhelming instinct to try to fix whatever put it there, to erase anything bad in this woman’s life and make it better. It makes him realize there are still so many things he doesn’t know about her.

Lydia sighs and seems to push aside her vulnerability and carefully hide it away before finally turning to meet his gaze. “Dinner smells delicious by the way. Is it ready or…?”

“Yeah, it’s ready,” he nods and pulls her hand to lead her to the kitchen. “Come on.”

 

———

 

“Stiles?”

He’s not sure how long he’s been rambling as he washes the dishes, by himself of course because he refused to let Lydia help, when her voice cuts in and shuts him up. Instantly his cheeks are burning, his hands going still under the soapy water because he suddenly realizes he’s been going on and on about _Spiderman_ of all things.

“Stiles, look at me.”

Hesitantly he glances over his shoulder to where she’d been sitting at the counter listening to him but jolts when he sees that she’s making her way toward him.

He turns around in a rush, back against the counter and his fingers dripping sudsy water on the tile floor.

She’s barely stopped in front of him when her hands reach up and bracket his cheeks, green eyes wide and hesitant as they dart back and forth between his. “Stiles…”

His heart is pounding out of control, his breath catching in his throat as his soaked hands reach out and shakily grasp at her sides.

The few inches between them disappear as she leans up and kisses him. Her lips are so soft and warm and she tastes like chocolate frosting from dessert and something else that seems jarringly familiar. 

His eyes widen as she presses closer, her fingers grasping at the front of his shirt, but he soon sinks into it and his lashes drift shut. He moves his lips in time with hers as his heartbeat fills his ears.

Everything about that kiss feels like perfection, makes him want _more._

She pulls back just the slightest, both of them gasping for unsteady breaths as their noses graze and their hands pull somehow tighter at each other.

Eventually they open their eyes and their gazes meet, both of them wearing matching expressions of awe.

Neither of them says it out loud but everything about that simple kiss feels monumental. Like that cheesy cliche in a crappy romance movie where someone realizes the person standing before them is everything. 

Lydia’s eyes turn wet and she presses her lips together as she stares up at him before burying her face into the crux of his neck.

Swallowing roughly, Stiles wraps his arms around her, neither of them caring or noticing that his damp skin is soaking through her dress and up his sleeves.

_Five days,_ he reminds himself as he presses his lips against her hair. It’s only been five days since he first spoke to her, two and a half weeks since he first saw her in that coffee shop. It shouldn’t feel this overwhelmingly right.

But it does. _Holy shit_ does everything about this woman feel right. Like finding a piece of himself that he didn’t even realize he was missing.

Lydia Martin is it for him. Stiles is sure of it.

 

———

 

“Stiles, are you even paying attention?”

Lifting his eyes, Stiles looks at the screen to the Mario flailing his arms in victory on one half of the screen while Toad sits on motionless on the side of the track on the other. 

No, he is definitely not paying attention.

But how can he when it’s the first night he’s not spending with Lydia since their first date? It’s stupid and ridiculous because even though he still saw her early that morning at the coffee shop, he misses her. It wasn’t enough.

And now all he can think about is what he’s going to do tomorrow morning because it will be Saturday and he doesn’t usually go get coffee on days he doesn’t work and he doesn’t know if Lydia goes there on the weekend either but-

“Stiles?”

“What?” Stiles jumps, annoyed, before realizing that he zoned out again. “Oh, yeah, sorry dude.”

“You know, we don’t have to play-“

“Oh yes we do,” the human cuts him off, trying to sit up straighter and force himself to focus. “I obviously need to take my mind off of a certain strawberry blonde and you need to not think about why Kira has suddenly decided she needs to go visit Malia _immediately-_ “

“I know why she’s visiting Malia,” Scott jumps in, rolling his eyes.

“Oh really?” Stiles raises a brow. “Enlighten me then.”

The alpha grits his teeth and remains silent, looking anywhere but at Stiles.

“See, we need a night of Mario Kart distraction,” he declares, squaring his shoulders with the TV. “Start it over. I promise no more zoning out.”

Scott huffs but does as he’s told and soon they are too many rounds into a heated battle.

“Come on! Go go go go, you little bastard!” Stiles yells at his character on the screen, pushing buttons as fast as he can. “No wolf powers, Scott! That’s cheating!”

Scott snorts. “How the hell could I use wolf powers to cheat at video games?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve figured it out. You’ve figured it out and you’ll never admit it because it’d be too hard for me to tell and- Damn it!”

Laughing, Scott rolls his eyes at his best friend. “I’m just better at this game then you. I’ve always kicked your ass at video games, way before the bite.”

Stiles stubbornly shakes his head. “Not how I remember it.”

“Whatever. Rematch?”

“Of course.”

The screen counts down from three and then they are off again, but then Scott’s character stays frozen and before Stiles can get out a sarcastic remark, Scott lets his controller clatter to the ground.

Glancing over, Stiles instantly drops his controller too, game completely forgotten at his best friend’s face twisted in absolute pain, hands clasping tight over his ears.

“Scott? Scott, what’s going on? What’s happening?”

The alpha shakes his head and digs his suddenly visible claws into his skin and struggles to breath against whatever is happening.

It doesn’t last long and it all stops just as abruptly as it started, leaving Scott gasping to catch his breath as his hands fall limply to his sides.

“Scott? What the hell-“

_“Lydia.”_

Stiles swears his heart stops in his chest, everything around him going oddly still at that one whispered word. “What did you say?”

Turning sharply to his best friend, the alpha gapes at Stiles as he gets ahold of himself. “Lydia,” he repeats shakily and pushes himself up to his feet. “We have to get to her. We have to find her.”

Stiles jumps up and grabs Scott by the shoulders to stop him. “What the hell are you talking about, Scott? What is going on?”

“She-“ the alpha starts before stopping himself and shaking his head and starting over. “I heard her scream.”

_“What?”_

“She’s a banshee, Stiles, and I just heard her scream,” Scott explains in a big rush, stepping around the human. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Oh, hell yes, you’ll be explaining on the way!”

They forgo the elevator and take the stairs two at a time down to the ground floor and pile into Scott’s car since the alpha is pretty sure he can pinpoint where the scream was coming from.

It only takes a few blocks of heavy silence for Stiles to completely snap. “You better tell me what the hell is going on right now-“

“Lydia’s a banshee.” 

“What the hell is a banshee?” Stiles demands, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. “I’ve never even heard of that! And how do you know that’s what she is?”

“They sense death. They scream either to hear it better or to let people know it’s happening, which I never really understood,” Scott explains as he focuses resolutely on the road. “And I knew because I- well I just- I smelled it on her. The other day, when I met her.”

“You _smelled_ it on her?” the human repeats loudly, still in disbelief. “If this is true- I mean- Why didn’t you tell me?”

Scott shrugs and turns down another street and Stiles notices they are nearing the preserve. “You said it yourself, you have a sense about people and she’s good. Banshee’s aren’t dangerous.”

Stiles’s mind is racing because it doesn’t make sense, none of it does, and something about this conversation is giving him a headache that’s making it hard to really think. “But, Scott-“

That’s when Stiles sees her, ambling down the side of the road and hugging herself tight.

“Pull over,” he commands the alpha, already opening his door to get out before the car even has a chance to stop.

“Lydia?!”

She looks up at his voice, eyes dazed and wet with tears. As he gets closer he realizes she’s only in a thin night gown, her feet bare on the rough pavement.

She gulps a huge breath of air at the sight of him, nearly bursting into tears. “Stiles?”

He doesn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms, hugging her tight just to reassure her that he’s there. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks as he pulls back and begins checking her over.

Lydia quickly nods her head. “I’m fine.”

It takes a few seconds for Stiles to finish his visual appraisal of her and believe for himself that she really is fine. Then he pulls off his paid over shirt and helps her slide it over her arms before he can wrap her up in it tight. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere warm, okay?”

“Wait.”

Stiles looks over at his best friend at the sound of his voice, surprised to see the alpha’s eyes filled with tears. “What? Scott-“

“I’m sorry but I have to ask,” Scott tries to get the human to understand before he turns to the banshee. “Where is it, Lydia?”

Stiles feels her go rigid in his arms at the question but she tries to play it off like she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “Where is what?”

“You know what,” Scott answers and steps closer, eyes gentle as he clarifies. “The body.”

Lydia presses her lips together, eyes wide and frightened as they dart back and forth between Scott and Stiles.

Stiles tries to take her hand but she takes a shaky step back out of his reach. “Lydia?”

“H-How? How do you…”

Scott lets his eyes flash red for only a second but it’s enough to send Lydia stumbling back to get away, her whole body suddenly trembling.

“No,” she breathes, shaking her head rapidly as if she can will this all away. “No, no, no, no.”

Stiles immediately steps forward to reach for her again but she shoves him away.

“What are you?” she frantically demands of Stiles, voice cracking with fear. _“What are you?!”_

“Human,” he promises in a rush, holding his hands up in defense. “I swear to god I’m human, Lydia. I promise. I’m just human.”

She watches his eyes, studies him as he speaks, and slowly she starts to relax because for some reason she can’t help but believe him. She hugs herself and the too big plaid around her tight, trying to calm down.

“And you’re a… a banshee?” Stiles clarifies uncertainly, taking a careful step toward her. “Scott didn’t tell me until he heard you scream.”

Chewing her bottom lip, she hesitates for a beat before giving in and slowly nodding in confirmation. Then she pulls her eyes from Stiles to look wearily back at Scott.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Lydia,” Scott tries to assure her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay and deal with whatever you found.”

“It’s in the woods. About twenty yards in by a really big tree stump.”

Scott’s eyes go wide and he takes off immediately, leaving behind the human and the banshee by the side of the road.

“Shouldn’t you go with him?” Lydia asks when the silence between them starts to turn awkward. “You’re the detective.”

Stiles shakes his head at her. “I’m not leaving you.”

Sighing at his obvious concern, she gives in and reaches out for his hand, gripping it tight in her own.

“Let’s get you in the car okay?” He squeezes her hand back and pulls her into his side. “It’s freezing out here.”

“But Scott-”

“Scott has fangs and claws and super-human strength. I think he can take care of himself.”

Lydia’s eyes drift back toward the woods, her haunted gaze losing focus the longer she fixates the tree line.

Stiles is overwhelmed with concern. “Lydia?”

Her gaze snaps back to him, green eyes glassy as she finally nods. “Okay.”

With his arm around her still trembling shoulders, he leads her across the road to Scott’s car and carefully helps her into the backseat. Then he rushes around to the other side and slides in next to her.

Both of them remain silent, Lydia’s eyes trained on the woods and Stiles’s eyes focused on her.

He’s at a loss as to what to say or do next, not sure if he’d be overstepping by asking her questions or if she would even want him to try to hold her. She sniffles and he realizes then she’s fighting back tears. It’s on instinct then that he shifts closer to her, his voice soft as he whispers, “It’ll be okay, Lydia. Whatever it is, we’ll protect you.”

She presses her eyes shut tight and takes a deep, shaky breath at his words. A tear escapes the corner of her eye but she hastily wipes it away, refusing to let this break her.

He opens his mouth to say more, wanting nothing more but to comfort her, but she cuts him off.

“Scott’s back.”

Stiles looks over and sees the way his best friend is lingering near the edge of the woods and knows from years of friendship that Scott is waiting for him to come join him.

He reaches out and gives her shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nods, just barely, and gives him a brave attempt at a smile when her eyes meet his before he leaves her side.

“It’s bad, man. Really bad,” Scott mutters and there are tear tracks on his cheeks that Stiles can see when they catch the moonlight. “It’s a teenager. Stabbed in the chest.”

Stiles feels absolutely sick, his eyes turning hard as he looks out into the woods where Scott just came from. “Is it, uh- You think it has to do with the supernatural or…?”

“I don’t know. I mean, Lydia — Banshees, can find bodies that were killed by just humans for no supernatural causes.”

Raising a brow, Stiles scrutinizes his best friend curiously. “I didn’t realize you know so much about banshees.”

Scott shrugs it off like it’s nothing but doesn’t comment on it any further. His eyes drift back over to his car where Lydia is sitting in the backseat, not even attempting to hide the fact that she’s watching them closely. “I can call your dad if you want to take her home.”

Stiles follows his best friend’s gaze. “Thanks, man. I should get her out of here.”

“The sheriff, does he know that you two are-“

“I haven’t told him, no. Best not to get the old man’s hopes up about me and a female so early on.”

Scott nods, suddenly avoiding his gaze. “You know I have to tell him, right?”

“I don’t know that,” the human immediately contradicts. “Anyone could have found that body. It doesn’t matter that it was her.”

“It does though.”

Stiles narrows his gaze on the alpha. “Why?”

Sighing, Scott kicks his foot at a rock as the silence between them grows heavy but he doesn’t speak up.

“Just don’t mention it, okay?” Stiles requests, his voice going soft as he tries to reason with the alpha. “You know how my dad gets about new supernatural creatures popping up. I don’t want him to think she has anything to do with it. I mean, according to you, the apparent resident banshee expert, they aren’t dangerous.”

Scott finally looks up, opening his mouth to argue before just giving in. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He pats his best friend on the back and takes the keys to the car when he offers them. “Call me if you need anything.”

Scott nods, already turning away as he pulls out his phone to call the sheriff.

“What’s going on?” Lydia questions the second he opens the driver’s side door to get in.

“I’m taking you home and Scott’s going to call my dad.”

“Your dad who’s also the sheriff?”

“That would be the one,” he confirms as he turns on they key and the engine roars. 

The click of the back door stops him from taking off right away and he’s about to jump out after Lydia like she’s trying to escape when she opens the passenger door and climbs into the seat next to him. She doesn’t say anything, just gives him a sad smile but they barely make it a mile down the road before she reaches over and takes his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Once they reach her house, Stiles doesn’t ask her if she wants him to come inside, just follows her through the front door and up the stairs to her room.

Hovering in the doorway though, he’s not sure what to do next as he watches her start to go through her dresser until she pulls out a set of pink pajamas.

She looks over at him, just as hesitant as he is, and motions toward the bathroom door across the room. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I’ll be, well, here,” he calls back to her, shoulders deflating when she disappears into the other room. 

Curiously, he walks around her bedroom and observes the various possessions of Lydia’s. The make up carefully arranged on her mirrored vanity, the wide range of classical and current books on her bookshelf, the little white butterflies decorating her wall. All things that are part of what makes up Lydia Martin.

A banshee.

He sits on the edge of her bed, elbows on his knees as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do with that information. 

“Hi.” Lydia smiles hesitantly when she finally emerges from the bathroom, the tear streaks washed from her pale cheeks.

Stiles's eyes carefully following her as she crosses the room until she settles next to him on the bed. “You want to talk about it?”

The corner of her lip quirks up in a cynical smile. “You mean do I want to tell you everything that you’re dying to know?”

“Well-“

“Just ask, Stiles.”

“How did you find it?” He blurts before quietly clarifying, “The body.”

Looking at her lap, Lydia fidgets with her fingers. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured out exactly how it works. I guess it’s kind of like sleep walking. Tonight, it was one minute I was headed downstairs to get some tylenol and the next thing I know I’m walking through the woods barefoot.”

Tentatively Stiles reaches out and grasps one of her hands in his. “Were you bitten?”

“I was. I mean, I have a scar,” she answers, her uncertainty clear in her voice. She looks up at him sideways as she admits, “I - I was in an accident. My alpha, he said he found me and he saved me with the bite.”

“You don’t sound like you believe him.”

“It didn’t take me long to figure out he was one of the bad guys. I’ve always wondered what, if any, of the things he said were really the truth.”

“But you’re not sure what happened, exactly? You don’t remember it?”

Lydia shakes her head, pressing her lips together. “I don’t remember a lot of things about my life. After the accident, nearly all of my memories disappeared. I remember my childhood up to a certain point and then… Nothing.”

Stiles furrows his brow at her. “A bite shouldn’t do that to you though. It shouldn’t mess with your mind like that.”

“Well a bite isn’t supposed to turn someone into a banshee either but here I am. Anything is possible.” She shrugs and pulls his hand into her lap, focusing her gaze on their intertwined fingers. “I went to a few doctors but none of them could explain the memory loss, always referred to it as some sort of vague trauma induced amnesia. There’s nothing that can be done about it.”

He squeezes her hand sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she quickly assures him with a tiny shrug of her shoulders at his concerns, not convincing him at all. “You know, I actually lived in Beacon Hills for most of my life. My family moved here right before I started third grade and I lived here until at least the end of high school. It’s in my transcripts, all completely verifiable, but I can’t remember any of it.”

“Really? You went to Beacon Hills High School?” His amber eyes narrow as he racks his brain to try to place her. “I don’t remember you.”

She smiles ruefully over at him. “Then I guess we weren’t friends.”

“I’d remember you, Lydia, regardless of that. I know I would.” She falls silent and he watches carefully the way her face falls. “Is that why you came back here? To remember something?”

“That was the idea. I hadn’t been here since I lost my memories but I spent most of my life here. It felt like the most logical thing was to at least try and see if just being here would help. It’s weird though. Now that I’m here, I feel like I should remember but it all feels just out of reach. Everything feels like details of a dream I can’t quite remember. It can be… unnerving.” She presses her lips together, shrugging helplessly. “I guess that’s why the coffee shop has really been the only place I’ve ventured to and it’s not even a mile away.”

“I could take you on a tour of this place sometime, see if that helps. My job does allow me unprecedented access to pretty much everywhere.”

“Maybe someday.” Lydia smiles softly over at him. “Honestly, sometimes I think maybe it’s good that I can’t remember. No one’s ever tried to reach out to me from here. From all the years I can’t remember, there’s no one. All I have is my mother, who loses it any time I bring this place up. I couldn’t even tell her I was coming here.”

He sees the sorrow behind her her green eyes and immediately reaches out for her. “Hey…”

Realizing herself at the concern in his voice, she quickly she shakes her head to clear it, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t even be telling you all of this. I’ve barely known you a week.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell. I promise, I won’t repeat a word.”

“I believe you,” she admits, smiling to herself. Taking a deep breath, she leans her head against his shoulder, nuzzling against his side for comfort. “You going back to help Scott, or…?”

“Not tonight. He and my dad can take care of it.”

“Maybe you could stay here for a little bit longer then?”

The corner of his lips quirks up gently. “I can do that.”

 

———

 

“You don’t think there’s anything supernatural about it? It was at the frickin Nemeton.”

His dad sighs and doesn’t bother to look up from his paperwork. “It could be a coincidence. We can’t just assume every murder in Beacon Hills has to do with something supernatural.”

“Oh, no, wouldn’t want to do that when it only ends up being the case in about 95% percent of them.” Stiles drops into a chair in front of his dad’s desk, pulling the case file into his lap and examining the photos.

“There needs to be a pattern before we can just jump to a conclusion like that.”

Stiles shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want a pattern. A pattern means more bodies. We need to figure it out with just one body this time.”

The sheriff puts down his pen, looking up and with a softness in his tired eyes. “We’ll figure it out, Stiles. But we need to start the investigation as a normal murder, then the supernatural elements will reveal themselves if they are there. You know that.”

“I know.” The young detective sighs to himself and closes the file, setting it aside.

His dad narrows his gaze on him. “Something else going on here I should know about?”

There is but there’s no way Stiles is going to bring Lydia in to it until he has to. “No, it’s nothing.”

 

———

 

“Where are we going exactly?”

“To the park,” Lydia reminds him for what feels like the millionth time as she pulls him along.

“And why are we going to the park again?”

She sighs and glares over at him, or up at him rather. It’s the first time she’s worn flats around him and she feels infinitely smaller as they walk side by side even though she’s only a few inches shorter without her heels.

He grins at her and releases her hand to throw his arm around her shoulders and maybe her heart flutters at the way she fits against his side.

“I have to read this paper for my research and it’s too nice to stay inside all day.”

“That’s great but it still doesn’t explain why I’m going to the park.”

She shrugs as if it’s so simple. “I needed someone to carry the blanket.” 

A laugh erupts from him and rumbles through his chest as he pulls her closer. “Wow, I’m glad I could be here to play such an important role in your day.”

“Me too.” She smiles softly at him, eyes glinting with happiness in the late morning sun.

Stiles smile turns warm at her before he leans down to kiss her temple.

For a few minutes they fall into silence, content in the comfortable and warm feeling lingering between them.

Lydia leads them onto a another street and the sidewalk disappears from under their feet, leaving them walking down the graveled side of the road.

“Hey Lydia?”

“Hmm?”

Stiles furrows his brow and looks around. “What park are we going to exactly?”

Confused, the strawberry blonde lifts her eyes and looks at the road they are on. Slowly her feet stutter to a halt, her heartbeat picking up as she realizes they are on the opposite side of town from where she’d intended to go.

“Lydia?”

In a daze she steps out of his hold, knows with everything in her that’s she’s supposed to keep walking.

Worry pools in Stiles’s gut when she ignores him and it all but consumes him when she starts down the street again, so quick and purposefully. “Lydia? Lydia, wait!”

He recognizes it just before she darts into the preserve. Realizes she’s headed right back to the Nemeton as he runs after her to follow.

Coming to a halt at her side, his stomach churns at the sight of the body a few feet. Another teenager, bloodied and still, huddled against the side of the ancient tree stump.

Instantly, he takes her hand with his trembling fingers but she doesn’t respond, her small hand limp in his tight grasp. He looks over and finds her green eyes empty yet unshakably focused down on body before them, her face too pale.

He steps in front of her to try to break her trance but she’s frozen, doesn’t flinch when he cups her cheek and bends down to meet her gaze. “Hey, hey… Lydia? Lydia, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Still receiving no response, he straightens and pulls her against his chest, holding her tight with one hand and digging out his phone to call his father with the other.

Eventually she nuzzles against him as his voice rumbles through his chest, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as she lets out a shaky breath.

Quickly he gets off the phone, pulling Lydia close to steady her. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Letting out a choked sob, she shakes her head against him.

“You are, I promise.” Stiles swallows back his own tears and gently helps to turn her around. “We gotta go wait for my dad, okay?”

She doesn’t respond, just lets him lead her back out of the preserve and clings to him on the side of the road as the siren approaches and grows louder.

Stiles presses his lips against Lydia’s hair when his father turns onto the road. Gently he extracts himself from her grasp with a few whispered reassurances before he goes to meet his father when he pulls up on the side of the road.

“Where is it?” The sheriff demands the second he steps out of the squad car, slamming the door behind him.

“By the Nemeton, just like the last one.”

“Looks like we’re getting a pattern.” His father sighs and rushes toward the tree line but when his eyes find the woman there on the side of the road he freezes. Eyes wide and weary, the sheriff steps carefully toward the strawberry blonde. _“Lydia?”_

“God, I knew it!” Stiles bellows and throws out his hands, stomping across the gravel road back to his girlfriend’s side. “I knew Scott couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Yes, dad, this is Lydia. Lydia this is my dad.”

In a daze, Lydia forces an attempt at a smile that falls flat as she reaches out and takes Stiles’s hand to keep her grounded.

The sheriff looks wearily between his son and the girl at his side, sadness shining in his eyes. “Hi, Lydia.”

“I’m guessing Scott told you she was the one who found the other body too?”

Pausing, his father narrows his eyes like he’s putting together pieces to a puzzle. Finally he nods slowly and deliberately, looking over at the preserve. “Yeah. Yeah, he told me.”

Stiles scoffs, arm flailing out in indignation. “Is no one trustworthy anymore?”

“Stiles, focus,” the sheriff barks, dragging his gaze back to his son. Again, though, it’s the banshee that catches his attention and fills him with concern. “Maybe you should get her out of here?”

Dropping his gaze, Stiles grows serious as Lydia stares back toward where she knows the body is with green eyes somehow vacant yet brimming with tears. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Lydia? We’re gonna get out of here, okay?”

“Take the squad car.”

The banshee shakes her head, looking up at Stiles. “Can we walk? Please?”

Stiles smiles softly at her, brushing away a tear that escapes the corner of her eye. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

“Hey, Stiles?”

Carefully, Stiles wraps his arm around her shoulders before looking back to his father.

“You think you could come by the house tonight? I’ll be done with my shift by 5.”

Stiles nods with his eyes narrowed. “Something going on?”

The sheriff’s gaze darts between the banshee and his son and he tries to shrug nonchalantly. “Just think we should talk.”

“Okay?” Stiles agrees, giving his dad a weird look. “Come on, Lyds.”

She burrows against his side, clinging to him as they start slowly down the road as more sirens start their approach from far off. The two of them retrace the strange path they’d taken in silence, finding the sidewalk and following it back through the too bright and sunny neighborhood.

At the bottom of her driveway Lydia’s feet come to a halt, eyes steady and sure as she admits to him in a rough whisper, “I wish I wasn’t a banshee.”

 

———

 

Speeding to a stop in front of his childhood home, Stiles rolls his eyes when he finds the driveway empty. “Of course.”

He lets himself into the house with his old set of keys and walks through the silent living room to the kitchen. Grabbing a drink from the fridge, he sighs as he absentmindedly checks the mail for anything with his name and then looks over the old pictures on the fridge of himself and his parents when he was just a kid and a few of him and Scott from high school.

It hits him then what Lydia told him about going to Beacon Hills High School and suddenly he’s rushing through the house and up the stairs to his old room.

He pulls apart everything in there, digs through the closet, empties drawers, and pulls everything out from under his bed in search of his yearbooks. They’re nowhere to found but what feels even weirder is that he doesn’t really find any photos at all. Nothing from high school and barely anything from before that when he’s sure he had a shoe box full of them at some point.

Sitting back on his feet, he’s frowning in thought as he surveys the mess of his old room when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

_Stuck at the station a little longer. Be home as soon as I can. Stay there._

He sighs at the message, noting with annoyance that his dad is already almost an hour late when Stiles told Lydia he’d go back to her place soon with dinner. There is no way Stiles is blowing her off to listen to what he’s pretty sure is going to be a speech from his father about dating a supernatural creature.

_Sorry, can’t wait any longer. We’ll talk later._

Pocketing his phone, he pushes himself back to his feet and looks around at the mess he’s made. Quickly he cleans up all of it by throwing everything into a pile inside the closet and closing the door behind it.

 

———

 

Leaning back in his chair, he scowls as he scrutinizes the board laid out before him. Details of two murders that share nothing in common except for their location and their discovery by his banshee girlfriend.

“Any ideas?”

Stiles lifts his eyes from the board and turns toward his father’s voice, frowning as he shrugs. “Not yet.”

“It’ll come to you.” The sheriff steps into the room and settles into the chair next to him.

Stiles shrugs, unsure. “Hopefully not with another body first.”

His dad reaches out and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, what did you want to talk about?” Sitting up straighter in his chair, Stiles turns and smiles apologetically at his dad. “Sorry I couldn’t stay. Lydia was waiting for me to bring back dinner.”

The sheriff presses his lips together, eying his son carefully. Eventually, the older man wearily shakes his head. “Nothing… It’s nothing, Stiles.”

Frowning, Stiles studies his father for a moment before he nods and decides to accept his father’s answer, though he doesn’t believe it for a second.

“You should send this stuff over to Deaton,” the sheriff suggests to changes the subject, “get his take on all of it. Argent’s been back in town for a couple weeks now too, right? He could have some thoughts as well.”

“Already sent copies of all of it to both of them this morning.”

His dad smiles proudly, patting him on the shoulder.

Stiles smiles back, watching as his father gets up and makes his way back toward his office but he knows there is something still lingering between them. “Hey dad?”

The sheriff turns with his brow raised curiously.

“I care about Lydia a lot. I know how fast it is but she means a lot to me.”

His father’s smile falters, eyes growing weary before he nods. Then he turns and disappears into his office, closing the door tight behind him.

 

——— 

 

“Hey, do yo have any of your yearbooks here?”

“No. I think they are all at my mom’s.” Scott frowns and looks away from the tv screen to eye his best friend. “Why?”

Stiles shrugs, pounding his fingers across the controller and staring dazedly at the screen. “No reason.”

“No reason?” Scott pushes, narrowing his gaze. “Just want to take a trip down memory lane?”

“Maybe,” he mutters distracted. “By the way I think I was wrong about your girlfriend avoiding you.”

“You’re just realizing this?”

“Well, I’ve been busy. Though I don’t know how I missed it since it’s pretty obvious she’s avoiding me.”

“Kira’s not avoiding you, you’re just never here.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” His character on the screen dies and the game reloads to the menu. Finally Stiles looks up from the screen, eyes dashing over to the clock on the wall. “Actually, I should probably get going.”

“Staying at Lydia’s again?”

Stiles shakes his head and drops his controller as he gets up. “Just taking her to dinner. I’m going to head in to work early and I don’t want to wake her up.”

Scott snorts. “You mean you’re going to stay up all night thinking about this case and you don’t want her to know.”

“Hey, I think I can wait until at least a month into this relationship before I introduce her to my crippling insomnia.”

“I’m pretty sure she can handle it.” The alpha comments, digging his hands into his pockets and watching his friend head for the door.

Stiles quirks the corner of his mouth up ruefully. “We’ll see.”

 

———

 

Lydia calls him in the middle of the night practically hyperventilating, sobbing across the line that she found another body.

Stumbling through his room he pulls on shoes in a rush. Then he bounds through the apartment, searching frantically for his keys everywhere and panicking when he can’t find them. His trembling hand moves clumsily along the coffee table and then the mantle and in his haste he knocks over one of the picture frames there, sending it shattering to the ground.

Cursing, he runs to grab a bag from the kitchen and scoops up the pieces in a rush. Carelessly he throws into his room to fix later before Kira notices and makes that sad face of hers that makes him feel like a total asshole.

“What’s going on?” Scott yawns and sticks his head into the hallway. “I heard something break.”

“It’s nothing,” Stiles barks and runs his hand roughly through his hair, about to snap. “I just can’t find my fucking keys!”

“Your keys?” The alpha follows Stiles blearily through the apartment, quickly becoming more and more awake. “It’s Lydia, isn’t it? She found another body.”

The human doesn’t say anything, just grits his teeth and digs between the couch cushions. 

Scott heads back to his room and comes back with his own keys in one hand and his shoes already on. “I’m coming with you.”

It’s too familiar a sight now, Lydia sobbing at the edge of the woods. She sees him step out of the car and runs to him, a mess of wind strewn strawberry blonde hair, damp cheeks, and wide eyes. Stiles catches her and wraps her up tight, lifting her off the ground for a moment as he absorbs the force of her against him.

_“It’s a kid!”_

The two men’s eyes meet over her as Stiles sinks his fingers into her hair and holds her steady.

The alpha looks away first, gaze sliding toward the preserve.

“Scott-“ Stiles chokes out over Lydia’s sobs, shaking his head at his best friend to stop him.

Scott doesn’t listen, doesn’t look back, as he walks away and disappears into the tree line.

Heart pounding out of control, Stiles runs his hand slowly up and down Lydia’s trembling back and keeps his eyes fixed on the place where his best friend disappeared.

“It’s a kid, Stiles. A little boy- H-He- _God Stiles-_ “

Swallowing roughly, Stiles buries his cheek against her hair, opening his mouth to say something comforting but finding himself at a loss.

Scott resurfaces only a minute later, tears on his too pale skin and eyes glowing red.

“Scott?”

His gaze darts up to his best friend’s, clearly shaken. “She’s right. It’s a kid.”

Moisture gathers in Stiles’s eyes and his stomach churns at what he knows is out there. What he knows he has to do now. Roughly he presses his lips to Lydia’s hair before carefully untangling himself from her.

“Stiles-“

“You guys go wait in the car,” he quietly commands before focusing in on Scott. “Call my dad.”

“Wait,” Lydia begs him, gripping his sleeve to keep him with her. “Please, Stiles.”

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s _not._ ”

“It is, I promise. I need to see this through. I’m going to stop this, okay? This is my job.” He reaches out and cups her damp cheek. “Trust me.”

Her bottom lip trembles as her eyes dart between his. After a moment she nods, just barely, and Stiles takes a shaky breath as she holds back her sobs for him. Reluctantly, she lets Scott lead her away, keep her gaze turned back over her shoulder to watch him disappear into the woods.

 

———

 

There are already tears on his cheeks when she opens her door to him late the next night. It’s the first time he’s seen her since he stepped into the preserve last night, the first time he’s taken a break since so he saw the body waiting against the Nemeton.

Her eyes and her touch are too warm when she reaches out for him, gently pulling him inside. He follows in a daze, takes a shuttering breath when the door clicks shut behind them.

Lydia doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips together and wraps her arms around his middle to hold him tight.

Something about it unravels Stiles. Suddenly he can’t hold back the sobs building in the back of his throat, can’t keep steady his legs when they shake beneath him. He stumbles back and Lydia goes with him, sliding down until they’re a tangle of limbs and tears against her front door.

“Lydia…”

“Shh, Stiles…” she soothes and brushes her fingers over and over through his unruly locks. “I’m here.”

He’s all curled into her, cheek buried against her chest over the steady beat of her heart while he hugs her in his lap. She grounds him, anchors him to her as he absolutely shatters. And when his tears eventually start to taper off and his exhaustion sets in, she just holds him tighter.

“It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay.”

Her lips press against his hair and he drifts off into a dreamless few minutes of desperately needed sleep.

Too soon, he blinks awake against her tear stained t-shirt. He lets her untangle herself then, follows numbly when she pulls him with her over to the couch a few feet away and nudges him to lie down.

A sad smile curls her lips when she catches him staring at her as she throws a blanket over him. “Scoot over.”

He complies and she fits herself into the small space at his side, pulling some of the woven blanket over her shoulder too.

Impulsively he kisses her, soft and slow as they curl together on the narrow piece of furniture. He’s overwhelmed again when he pulls back, tears building in his eyes all over again.

“I had to-“ he starts but swallows roughly and has to start all over again. “I had to tell his parents.”

She bites her lip hard and reaches out to brush her thumb against his damp cheek, green eyes full of sorrow.

“I never want to have to do that again but I’m going to have to because _I can’t figure it out._ I can’t figure out the pattern. I don’t know how to stop it. Another kid is probably going to be killed, could be dying now, and I can’t do _anything-_ “

“Hey, hey,” Lydia breathes soothingly, shifting in his hold so she can bracket his face between her small hands, forcing him to focus on her. “Take a deep breath for me.”

He tries to comply but it’s still shaky with his tears.

“Stiles, working all night, letting yourself get so exhausted and panicked, is just going to make it absolutely impossible to focus. You have to take care of yourself otherwise you’ll be too much of a wreck to even function, let alone try to solve a case, okay?”

Taking a steadier breath, he just barely nods against her hands.

Her gaze moves carefully across his features as she appraises him. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I can’t,” he quickly answers, nose scrunching and stomach turning at the thought.

“Okay then sleep,” she all but commands yet her voice is so soft and soothing. “Sleep here with me as long as you can and in the morning we’ll walk to the coffee shop like normal. Then you go to work with a clear head so you can focus.”

“What if it doesn’t help? What if I still can’t figure it out?”

The corner of her mouth quirks up at him. “Then you come back to me tomorrow night and we do it all over again.”

Closing his eyes, Stiles takes a long breath, trying to keep hold of his rapidly shifting emotions because where he’d just felt nothing but panic and fear, he suddenly feels overwhelmed with love.

Lydia’s fingers curl around the side of his neck, finding their way to the back of his hair to slowly comb through the strands again.

“Thank you.” He opens his tired eyes to look at her as exhaustion settles in his bones again with her gentle touch. “I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you.”

With soft eyes she leans across the few inches between them and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Me neither.”

 

———

 

Another long day of work passes by and he’s still nowhere closer to solving anything.

He’s not panicking though. In fact he feels more steady than he has in awhile. All because of Lydia.

Stiles lets himself into his apartment and the setting sun is shining warm and orange through the living room windows. Hearing Scott moving around somewhere in the apartment, he shouts out a greeting to his best friend and heads straight to his room. 

Tiredly he pulls off his jacket and tosses it aside, intent on grabbing a quick shower before he packs up a few days worth of clothes to take over to Lydia’s. He kicks his shoes off across the room and hears a swish of plastic when the second one lands in the corner.

Curiously he turns toward the noise to find a plastic bag, remembers it’s the one he’d gathered up the broken picture frame in when he was such a rush to get to Lydia the other night.

He pauses for a moment before deciding to cross the room and plop down on the floor next to it. Mindlessly, he finds himself pouring out the contents of it and looking over the broken pieces, fingers moving around the shards. 

Stiles knows he can fix this, save the photo and replace the frame for Kira. He can make this one thing right even though everything else seems so impossible right now.

Carefully he picks up the biggest piece, the frame with the picture of Scott, Kira, and himself the day they moved in still fixed in place behind a few sharp pieces of glass. Turning it over in his hands, he undoes the tiny latches and pulls off the backing, surprised when something falls out into his lap.

He picks up the folded piece of what appears to be another photo and curiously unfolds it.

_Lydia._

With her strawberry blonde hair, bright green eyes…

Next to _him._

For a moment everything goes still, his breath caught in the back of his throat as he gapes at the impossible photo. A photo of Lydia sandwiched between himself and Scott, all three of them absolutely beaming in their caps and gowns with the sun shining in their eyes.

“Wha-“

Everything comes roaring back alive around him and suddenly his heart is pounding out of control and his chest is burning from lack of oxygen.

This can’t exist.

“What- What the- _Scott?!_ ”

Stiles feels like he’s drowning as he stares at the photo, hears his best friend scream back at him followed by feet pounding through the apartment before his door flies open. “Stiles, what-“

He looks up just as Scott notices the photo in his hands, sees his best friend instantly go wide eyed and nervous as he hovers in the doorway. “Stiles…“

“What the hell, Scott?”

The alpha remains helplessly silent, mouth hanging dumbly open as his eyes grow wet.

“What is this? How is this- How-“ Stiles swallows roughly, heart continuing to pound painfully in his chest. _"What the fuck is this?”_

“Stiles, calm down.“

“Calm down?! Scott-“ 

Finally finding it in him to move, Scott hurries into the room drops to his kneels at his best friend’s side. “You gotta breathe, man, you’re panicking.”

“Of course I’m fucking panicking!” Stiles shouts indignantly, shoving away Scott’s hand when he reaches out to touch his shoulder. Instead, the human grips the creased photo and waves it out for the other man to see. “That’s Lydia. Right? That’s Lydia with us. I’m not crazy, am I?”

Slowly Scott shakes his head. “You’re not crazy. That’s Lydia. You, me, and Lydia at graduation.”

_“How?”_

Helplessly, the alpha shrugs but his eyes are full of emotion. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. I’ll tell you everything. I promise I’ll tell you everything but you have to calm down.”

Stiles viciously shakes his head, glaring at the alpha in warning. “Tell me now.”

“You and Lydia… You- You knew each other.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries so hard to remember something but after a moment he’s shaking his head again. “I don’t remember,” he declares frantically. “Why don’t I remember?”

“Because, Stiles, you- you asked me to take your memories of her. I didn’t want to,” Scott tries to explain in a big rush, “I refused but you were begging me to.”

Swallowing roughly, Stiles drops his gaze to the photo again, completely transfixed. “This is- God, I mean, we were friends with her?”

“We were. You were closer to her than I was. You always were.” Scott hesitates, watching his best friend carefully before giving in and adding, “Partially because you were dating.”

“Jesus,” Stiles hisses, feeling suddenly nauseous. “This can’t- It’s not real.”

“It is, Stiles. I promise this is real and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you-“

“Why the hell didn’t you then?” Stiles demands, turning quickly on him with wild eyes. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this the second I introduced you to her? The second I told you about her, you should should have told me this!”

Scott shrugs helplessly again eyes pleading for understanding. “I didn’t know what to do, Stiles. You two were so in love back then. You’d become inseparable. Your connection was so strong, it makes sense that the two of you would be able to find each other again, even after everything. I guess I didn’t want to ruin any chance you had of getting that back by dropping this on you right from the start.”

Stiles eyes are swimming because he believes it. Somehow it feels so true even though it’s crazy, especially when he thinks of how fast and hard he’s fallen for Lydia, but it still doesn’t make sense. “So then what happened, huh? If we were so in love why the hell would I beg you to erase her from my memories?”

Scott shifts closer to his best friend’s side, trying to explain everything as calmly as he can. “You went missing a few weeks after graduation and something inside Lydia changed. She spent all of her time trying to find you. She barely ate, never slept, put off college… Her whole life became focused on finding you. Then one night she felt your death and she couldn’t take it.”

“But I’m not dead. I’m alive. I’m here!”

“Your heart stopped, Stiles. You wouldn’t tell me what happened. Lydia felt it, though.”

Furrowing his brow at the photo, Stiles focuses in on Lydia’s smile frozen in the past. “So when she thought I was dead, she had you take her memories away?”

Scott slowly shakes his head but doesn’t go any further than that. “Maybe we should wait-“

“No, Scott.” Stiles pins the alpha with his unwavering glare. “Why doesn’t Lydia remember?”

“She just- She-“ Scott stutters before stopping himself and sighing helplessly. “I don’t know what to say, Stiles! She lost it. Her whole life spiraled. She ended up in the hospital, swore it was an accident, but she knows how to keep her heart steady when she lies, so I couldn’t tell…”

Stiles feels bile in the back of his throat, his head aching because it’s too much.

“When she was released, she just took off to stay with her dad in Seattle. A couple weeks later I got this really long voicemail out of the blue saying that she was erasing all of it, that she couldn’t take remembering anymore. I don’t know how she did it.”

“So when I came back-”

“It was awhile before that happened. Lydia had started at MIT by then. We went to Boston, we were going to fix things, try to get her memories back. When we found her though, you wouldn’t do it. You thought it was better for her this way. You wanted her to to have a chance to live her life away from the supernatural.”

Stiles closes his eyes and sends tears slipping down his cheeks. The only Lydia he knows is the one without her memories and her life is just as wrapped up in the supernatural as all of theirs and she’s faced all of it alone. It can’t be all because of him.

“You thought you could live with it,” Scott continues quietly, “with her living out there and not knowing you. It was only a few days later that you had me take your memories of her though, too.”

Sniffling, Stiles shakes his head to himself and looks desperately at his best friend. “God, this can’t be real. I mean, this is… How can this be real?”

Scott places his hand gently on his shoulder. “You and Lydia are connected. It hasn’t been that long but you can feel it, can’t you?”

He nods, tracing his finger over the photo and wishing for the memory behind it. “Do you- Do you have any more pictures? Of me and Lydia?”

“There’s a whole box of stuff in the Hale vault. I have your memories though, Stiles. I can give you them back.”

“God, I didn’t even realize I was missing this. I didn’t realize anything was gone. I mean graduation-“

“It wouldn’t have even occurred to you. I was careful, Stiles. I didn’t want you to go mad because of some detail I forgot.”

Taking a shuddering breath, his head pounds as he tries to process and absorb it all. “I need to think. I need… _Fuck._ I have to tell her.”

“If you know, she should probably know too.”

The human falls silent, his resolve growing as he studies that photo. Lydia’s smile burns itself into his brain but he notices then how his own grin is brighter than he thinks it’s ever been before. 

“I’ll tell her,” Stiles finally concludes, folding the photo and carefully hiding it away in his pocket. “I’ll go over there now and tell her.”

 

———

 

They’re sitting together on her couch, Lydia’s thigh pressed against his when he hands the photo to her with trembling fingers.

Stiles watches her eyes green eyes grow bright as she takes in the smiles on their young faces. His heart pounds as her fingers trace across the photo in the same fascinated way he had not even an hour ago on his bedroom floor. The only difference is Lydia’s not shaking.

“Say something,” he quietly begs, pressing somehow closer against her side. 

She tilts her head and looks over at him, green eyes brimming. “We look happy.”

Suddenly his eyes are swimming too, a sad smile curling his lips. “We do.” He reaches out and settles his arm across her shoulders to hold her, something he’d been too nervous to do before. “You’re not freaked out?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m surprised, yes, but this… This feels real to me. The way I feel about you, how I’ve felt about you since our first date when you hugged me. It makes sense. This fits.” Her eyes trail back down to the picture, tracing it again like she’s trying to memorize it. “I knew I was missing pieces of my life though.”

“Yeah, I definitely did not see this coming.” He wraps his arms around her and rests his chin against her shoulder to look the seemingly impossible photo with her. “You’re right though. It’s completely crazy but it feels true. It fits.”

She smiles to herself at that but it falters and grows hesitant almost immediately. “What happens now?”

“I’m not sure really. I came right over here after glaring at Scott until he gave me a synopsis of the situation that I’ll admit I may have been too freaked out to fully absorb.”

She turns in his arms so she can face him, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “Can you get your memories back?”

He hesitates, watching her carefully before he nods. “Scott says he has them.”

“Then you should get them back.”

“But won’t it be weird if I can remember us and you-“

“Stiles, if there was a way for me to get my memories back I wouldn’t even think about it. I mean, to be able to remember a time where I looked so happy? You should take them back.”

He frowns, taking a tremulous breath as he shakes his head to himself. “It’s not going to be all happy. It can’t be if we ended up so far apart. And the things that Scott told me-”

“We’ll figure it out. Anything that you remember is in the past. Obviously were able to find each other again despite anything that’s happened. That has to mean something.”

It’s her resolve that makes him nod, makes the decision for him. “Okay. I’ll ask Scott to give them back.”

She shifts in his hold like she’s going to get up, like they’re going to go _now_ , and for a second he panics. His hands jump out to keep her there and his eyes plead with her to stay.

“Stiles-“

“Lydia, I just-“ He swallows and pulls her closer. “Can I not remember with you for a little bit longer? Is that okay?”

Her green eyes soften on him, her full lips quirking up sadly. “Yeah. That’s okay, Stiles.”

He lets out a heavy breath, more than relieved, and watches captivated as she sets aside the photo before concentrating on him. 

“Come here,” Lydia beckons him quietly because even though they are so close, it’s nowhere near close enough.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate, closes the few inches between them in a desperate rush and holds her close. He buries face against her face and her neck and breathes her in steadily as she runs her fingers across his back.

Suddenly he’s trembling again because he’s scared out of his mind that he’ll lose this. He’s absolutely terrified that he’ll get back his memories and this will change because Scott may have said Stiles loved Lydia then, but he _knows_ he loves Lydia now.

Tentatively, he presses his lips against her neck, kisses his way higher when she sighs and grips the fabric of his shirt between her fingers.

When he reaches Lydia’s jaw, she turns and kisses him and there’s nothing tentative about it. Her kiss is urgent in a way that leaves him breathless, his heart beating out of control in his chest. Panting against her lips, he lets Lydia press him back against the couch, splays his hands across her back when she crawls into his lap to straddle him.

She curls over him and drags her lips against his, open mouthed and desperate, like she needs him just like he needs her.

Groaning, he shifts under her and Lydia hums against him in response, high and urgent in the back of her throat.

Her hands find the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily popping each of them apart while she continues to kiss his lips and his jaw. She pushes the fabric from his shoulders when it’s free, pulls at the t-shirt underneath until he removes that as well.

“Lydia…”

Her palms spread carefully across his stomach and she smiles against his lips when he shifts under her again. Then she runs the tips of her fingers slowly higher, nails just barely scratching over his chest, across his collarbones and then down his long arms. She reaches behind her and takes hold of his wrists, pulling them forward as Stiles looks up at her curiously.

When she settles his hands against the hem of her dress where it’s ridden up on her thighs, Stiles is swallowing roughly to try to stay in control. 

Lydia grins down at him but then he’s slipping his hands underneath and she’s whimpering over him. The noise from her has him fumbling, turning clumsy as he helps her pull the dress over her head because he needs more of her now. He pulls her down against him, kisses her over and over as he guides her so she’s laying back on the couch.

Her hands go for his belt as soon as he moves over her but he reaches out and stops her, gripping her fingers tight in his.

He opens his mouth to say something but he’s not sure what. Honestly he isn’t completely sure why he’s hesitating. He wants to be with Lydia now before everything has the chance to change tomorrow.

But maybe that’s why he’s scared to move forward. It could all be different after tomorrow.

Lydia’s eyes move curiously between his and a gentle smile curls her lips up at him like she just knows what he’s thinking. “Stiles…” With a softness shining in her eyes, she reaches up and brushes back his hair from his forehead then drags her fingers along the side of his face to settle her palm against his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

He leans against her touch, eyes growing wet. “How are you not freaked out right now? How can you be so sure that this won’t ruin everything?”

She presses her lips together as she watches him carefully. “Do you remember right after we first met? When I read your name on my coffee cup and I told you I’d heard it somewhere before?”

Slowly, he nods down at her.

“I heard your name in the voices, right before I decided to come back to Beacon Hills. I thought it meant I was supposed to meet you. Now that I know the truth, I don’t know… It feels like maybe I wasn’t really coming back to Beacon Hills. Maybe I was coming back to you this whole time.”

“Lyds,” he murmurs in awe, releasing his hold on the hand he’d stopped.

“It’ll be okay.”

He nods desperately, his own hands moving across her skin to pull her closer. “It’ll be okay.”

 

———

 

Hand in hand they walk in to the apartment the next morning, strong and steady together as they step into the living room and the dawn breaks outside.

Scott comes in from the kitchen the second he hears them, bags under his hesitant eyes from an obviously sleepless night. He’s silent though, unsure of what to say as Lydia eyes him curiously and Stiles sets his jaw at him determinately.

“I want my memories back.” The words are like a command but they shake as they come out. Lydia squeezes his hand tighter to ground him.

Scott lets out a breath of relief, smiling at his best friend. “Of course, man. They’re yours. You should have them.”

Stiles nods and he and Lydia step further into the room. “Can I- Could you- I mean, I- I don’t know if you have to go to work-“

Scott quickly shakes his head, moving forward and squeezing Stiles’s shoulder to stop his rambling. “I can give them back now, Stiles, if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’s shoulders relax a little, a tired smile on his lips as he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, man, now would be good.”

Scott motions for him to sit on the couch and Lydia trails after, her eyes meeting the alpha’s briefly as she passes. “Hi, Scott.”

“Hi, Lydia.” Scott’s eyes are too soft as he watches her. “You doing okay?”

She shrugs and settles on the couch next to Stiles. “At least I feel better about how weird you were when we met.”

Scott laughs, grinning down at her fondly. “Nice to see you haven’t changed much.”

Lydia’s eyes helplessly turn a little glassy at that and when she looks over at Stiles he looks like he’s about to cry. “Stiles…” she breathes, pulling his hand into her lap and sandwiching it between hers.

“You’re sure this is okay? I can wait until we can figure out a way for you to-“

“I don’t think there ever will be a way for me.”

“And if there is, Stiles, you’ll have a better chance of finding it once you remember,” the alpha adds in from his place behind the couch. “You know more than any of us about banshees.”

“That’s not true, I didn’t even know those existed- _Oh._ ”

Lydia’s eyes are bright as she squeezes his hand. “You’ll tell me, right? You’ll remember everything and you’ll tell me about us, about my life.”

He nods and takes a tremulous breath when he feels Scott’s nails scratch against the back of his neck. “Lydia-“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I promise, Stiles, I’m not going anywhere.”

Scott’s claws find their place on his skin. “Ready?”

Stiles looks at Lydia one last time before closing his eyes tight and sending tears streaking down his cheeks. “Ready.”

For a split second all he knows is pain, blinding and over whelming, and then there’s nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you’re interested in more of this. I would really appreciate any thoughts or feedback! I got into writing this and it become more flushed out and longer than I thought it would, so I really, really hope it all makes sense and is true to the characters. I believe it would end up being 3 parts in total and go into the past a bit as well as the future.
> 
> The idea started a little bit from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and grew from there when the new season became focused around the idea of erasing people from existence. This story isn’t AU and is set post senior year and after at least 6A since we don't know where the timeline will end for the last season in canon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, I really appreciate all the feedback! Hopefully the length of this will make up for the slight delay in updates. Not sure if this will be three parts or four, depends on where the length of the next part ends up. Enjoy!

Stiles’s heart stutters when he finally finds her stepping up to the counter at a coffee shop in the middle of Boston.

“There! There she is.” Pulling Scott along with him, he hurries into line a few places behind her, a mess of limbs and squeaking sneakers. 

She rattles off her usual annoyingly overcomplicated order in her familiar raspy voice and he rolls his eyes fondly like he always does but there’s an ache in his chest. He drinks in her strawberry blonde locks, her legs taut in high leather boots before her skin is swallowed up by a short, flowery skirt. 

The second she steps away from the counter, Scott goes to follow but Stiles shoots out a hand to stop him.

“Shouldn’t we go talk to her?”

“Well, we can’t just ambush her. You said she doesn't remember us.”

“I didn’t think there was any other way to do this, Stiles. You have a plan?”

Stiles shrugs, pressing his lips together as Lydia receives her order from the counter. “I’m working on it.”

The barista calls him up to order but he doesn’t pay attention as he steps out of line, letting Scott make a polite excuse as Stiles tucks himself into the corner and watches Lydia settle at a table. Completely captivated, he watches as she digs into her tote bag and carefully stacks a few worn books next to her before pulling out a laptop and powering it up.

“Can we talk to her now?” Scott whispers when he slides up to his side.

Stiles chews his lip but doesn’t answer, transfixed as Lydia opens the top book to a highlighted page and furrows her brow in concentration at the text.

This is supposed to be a rescue mission; find Lydia and show her he’s still alive and he’ll always find her no matter what. Then they’ll find a way to get back her memories and bring her home. Standing there watching her studying in this little cafe though, Stiles isn’t exactly sure what they’re rescuing her from anymore.

Swallowing roughly he steps forward, throwing a look at Scott over his shoulder to keep him there. Then he approaches her, acting as naturally as possible as he sweeps past her and knocks one of her books clattering to the floor.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he quickly rattles off a fake apology, crouching next to her chair and scooping up the book.

Their gazes meet when he lifts his head and for a second he can’t breathe, her green eyes locking on his marking the first time he’s actually felt at home since he returned to Beacon Hills last week.

But then Lydia scoffs and rolls her eyes and there is nothing fond about it at all because he’s a stranger to her now. 

The one person who was able to hold on to his memory until the ghost riders finally took him. The only person he never had to witness forget him completely, a fact he’d been endlessly thankful for because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

He can’t handle it now.

She clears her throat and holds out her hand expectantly.

Dazedly he drops his gaze to the book he’s now got a death grip on, the title something about the Riemann hypothesis he recognizes from the stack of books he’d collected for her while she was at Eichen. “Light reading?”

She snatches the book back and narrows her green eyes at him. “Studying, not that it’s any of your business.”

He nods and swallows against the lump he can feel building in his throat. “Harvard?”

“MIT,” she corrects, setting aside the book again and resuming her work, effectively dismissing him.

Hovering there, he thinks about all the things he should say, all the history and pain and love between them she doesn’t have a clue about. Carefully he stands up, eyes wet as he opens his mouth to tell her all of it.

“Future Fields Medal winner?” is what he ends up saying instead, his voice somehow teasing and absolutely broken at the same time.

Lydia doesn’t notice any of it, doesn’t even pause in her typing, but he sees the way she smirks confidently to herself as she simply retorts, “Soon.”

He knows what he’s about to do as his eyes rake desperately over her, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs as he tries to memorize all her details. It’s like his brain can’t process it though, can’t believe it when he whispers _good luck_ with his heart in his throat and walks away.

“What was that?” Scott demands when he rushes out after him and grabs him in the middle of the busy sidewalk. “Stiles, you have to tell-“

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, eyes brimming as he clenches his trembling fingers into fists at his sides. “I can’t take all of this away from her. Not to bring her back to Beacon Hills. Back to the Nemeton.”

“Stiles-“

“She’s out. This is Lydia’s chance to escape. It’s the only chance she’s ever going to get to live a normal life. _To be safe._ ”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine as long as she’s okay.”

Scott shakes his head. “I meant what is she going to do without you? She needs you.”

Swallowing roughly, Stiles gazes over his shoulder and peers through the window to watch Lydia flipping through the pages of a book, completely in her element. “She doesn’t.”

“You know that’s not true. Lydia knew it too. It’s why she helped everyone remember you when the ghost riders took you.”

“Yeah and now she’s erased me. _Us._ All of it.” 

“Because she was broken without you, Stiles. I told you what happened.”

“And I’m just going to bring her back to all that? So she can remember all that pain? So the next time things go wrong, she can be the one that’s taken?” Tears gather in Stiles’s eyes as he takes a few unsteady steps back. “No. I’m not doing that to her. I can’t.”

Scott steps forward but Stiles just retreats further away. “Where are you going?”

The human shrugs and wipes his arm hastily over his eyes. “I just need to be alone for awhile.”

Scott calls after him but he ignores him and disappears amongst the crowd, wandering around the city with his mind so overwrought it’s almost blank. He can’t think; can’t concentrate on anything except Lydia. Eventually he winds up right back at the cafe without even trying, peeking through the window and finding her still there typing away on her laptop. He leans against the side of the building and waits, watching dazedly as people pass in front of him and the sun climbs higher in the sky. 

It must be after noon by the time Lydia walks out, boots clicking beneath her and her bag thrown over her shoulder. She turns and walks right past him without even glancing in his direction and he follows after her because he has to.

He follows her the few blocks to campus, always trailing far enough behind her that she won’t notice his presence but close enough to observe everything, needing to somehow reassure himself that this is the right decision. He watches as a couple girls wave to her as she makes her way into the library and notices the way she smiles to herself as she flips through even more books. He even waits outside one of her classes and closes his eyes as he listens to the muffled drone of the professor.

The sun is starting to set by the time she starts across campus again and he aches to throw his arm around her when she hugs herself against the chilly night air.

She stops outside a little brick building on the edge of campus and Stiles watches from across the street as she digs in her bag for her keys. Once she disappears inside, he lets his eyes stray to the surrounding area, his lips quirking up at the quaint park next door and the bakery on the other side.

A window on the top floor floods with light and draws his attention. He can see Lydia in there, padding around the small space in soft, warm light. She kicks off her shoes, takes off her jacket, and then makes her way over to the window, giving him one last look at her delicate features and strawberry blonde locks before she pulls the blinds and disappears.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and strengthen his resolve. Eventually he’s able to open his eyes again without any tears slipping past his lashes. Much later he can finally bring himself to walk away.

Back in Beacon Hills, Stiles can’t sleep for even a minute. He can’t focus on anything. He can barely breathe without her there.

Still he tries to convince himself he can do this. He can be away from Lydia, keep track of her from afar and make sure she’s safe, always. He can do it as long as he has to. Forever, if that’s what it takes.

In the end though, he only makes it three days.

That’s all it takes for him to show up at Scott’s house in the midst of a panic attack with a box full of pictures and notes and _everything_ under his arm. He begs Scott to end it, to take his memories too so he doesn’t have to remember it all while Lydia doesn’t even know he exists.

At first the alpha refuses but then Stiles is holding his chest and hyperventilating. He slides to the ground and Scott sinks down in front of him.

“Please, Scott. _Please!_ I can’t do it. I can’t do this without her. Please…”

Claws dig into his neck and then all there is left is a bright white room filled with regret. Eventually, there’s nothing.

 

———

 

“Lyds…”

Stiles wakes up with her name on his lips, a sob bursting through his chest.

_“Lydia!”_

“I’m here, Stiles. I’m right here!”

He turns to the voice and can just barely make out her features through his tears; her long strawberry blonde hair, her green eyes shining and concerned.

With trembling fingers he reaches out and touches her cheek, brushes her hair back and sinks his hand into the long, soft strands.

He can’t believe he ever let himself forget _Lydia_.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Her voice is so soft and soothing but he shakes his head harshly against it because this isn’t okay. Their past, all the times she was so close to dying, all the times they suffered, and when they were finally happy and together… 

“Lydia, I…“

She moves past his tentative touches and wraps her arms around him to pull him close. “Shh, Stiles…”

He buries his faces into the side of her neck and dissolves into messy sobs at the familiar warmth and scent of her skin and hair. Already he can feel her ingrained in him again the way she’s supposed to be; the way she’s always been.

Her hands trail slowly up and down his back as he cries and soon the fingers of one of her hands winds into his hair. Idly she combs through the short strands on the back of his head the way he remembers her always doing when she’s comforting him, with her memories or without them.

Trembling, he pulls away so he can look at her again. “I’m so sorry, Lyds. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you everything when I had the chance. I never should have let myself forget you.”

She shrugs, her green eyes shining. “Apparently I did it first so maybe we should just call it even.”

He lets out a tearful, short laugh, sniffling as he watches her in fascination. He’s completely overwhelmed with all the feelings swelling inside him, more than he’d ever thought was possible just hours ago. 

Now he remembers how important she is. Now he knows Lydia means everything.

“You remember it all?”

Stiles nods slowly. “I think so.”

“I gave you back all of it, Stiles There’s nothing else.” Scott quietly interjects and both turn to find him watching them through soft eyes. He steps back and heads toward the door. “I’m gonna go out for a bit, let you guys have some time.”

Once they’re alone with the silence only broken by Stiles’s constant sniffling, Lydia reaches out and brushes her fingers against his damp cheek. “What are you thinking?”

He opens mouth to answer but then hesitates, avoiding her eyes uncertainly. “I don’t want to overwhelm you-“

“You’re not going to.”

“I _will_ -"

“Stiles, please.” Her voice is low and rough and begging for him to listen to her. Of course he does, eyes lifting to meet hers. “Look, I know this doesn’t mean as much coming from me and not from a different Lydia, one who remembers all the things you remember now, but I feel it, Stiles. I do.”

His lower lip trembles at her words.

“I’ve never been in love,” she admits quietly, her fingers toying with the front of his shirt, “but this thing between us, it feels like what I imagine love is supposed to feel like.”

Closing the few inches between them he kisses her then, all soft and tentative as he steadies his hands against her waist.

“There isn’t a different you. You are Lydia no matter what you remember. I love _you_.”

With the hint of a smile she leans in to him to kiss him again, both of them careful and reverential with every touch.

“So we were happy?” she whispers against his lips.

He quirks the corner of his mouth up at her sadly. “Being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

 

———

 

Stiles watches from a few feet away on is bedroom floor as Lydia digs through the box of all his memories Scott brought back from it’s hiding place in the Hale vault.

Her green eyes are full of melancholy as she digs through the jumbled pictures, flipping through memories she doesn’t feel a part of. Here and there she asks questions, innocent ones like when or where a certain picture is from but nothing more. He knows her inside and out now and he can tell she’s overwhelmed, knows she’s not ready to hear the story about the brunette girl with the bright smile that her gaze keeps lingering on.

Through all of it Stiles is silently fuming. Beneath the surface he can feel anger mounting in his veins with each photo she quietly sets aside. 

This isn’t how their lives were supposed to go, especially not Lydia’s. He remembers now all the awful things she’s been through, knows there are so many painful memories to share with her while the happy ones are few and far between. It feels like all he has to offer her is more hurt to pile on to all that she already feels.

_It’s not fair._

“My drawing.”

He snaps into focus at the sound of her voice, his brow furrowing when she pulls out the framed drawing of the Nemeton with the small note he’d written years ago still taped to the back. “You remember that?”

“Well not this exact one, no,” she clarifies, eyes tracing the sketch. “I recognize it though. I draw trees like this all the time.”

His mouth goes dry. “You do?”

“Mm-hmm.” She turns the frame over, flipping open the note she doesn’t know she’s never read before. _“So you always remember the amazing things you’re capable of.”_ Her gaze slides to him, confused. “Why would a drawing of a tree do that?”

“Because it’s not a tree really, it’s a stump.” Carefully he takes the frame from her, flipping it over and turning it so she can see the roots spread out. “It’s called the Nemeton. My dad was taken and your drawings are how we figured out where he was. You’d been drawing the Nemeton for a long time without even realizing it.”

She looks up at him from the drawing. “It’s where I’ve been finding the bodies, isn’t it?”

He only nods in response, at a loss of what else to say.

She takes the frame back to study it closer for a moment before hiding it away again and pushing aside the haunted feeling in the back of her mind. Moving across the floor, she tucks herself against his side and nuzzles against his chest.

He wraps his arm around and holds her against him. “You okay?”

Nodding, she peeks up at him through soft eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why’d you erase your memories of me?”

He swallows roughly, the question flooding him with nothing but regret. 

“You can tell me. I promise I won’t be mad. I just want to understand.”

He shrugs helplessly before trying his best to explain. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you were getting a fresh start in Boston without the supernatural in your life. I only wanted to protect you and keep you safe but it was killing me. I was already trying to figure out a way to come see you again without ruining everything. I couldn’t stay away from you. There’s no way I would have made it even another day without coming out there and telling you everything.”

She presses her lips together as she listens to him. “Were things here really that bad?”

“Not always but they can be sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. The things you’ve seen here, they’re not exactly uncommon. I thought I could protect you from it.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve found bodies, Stiles. You know that, right?” Hesitantly, she sits back and looks up at him. “I’ve had to bite my lip until it bled to hold back screams over dead bodies more than a few times in Boston. I’ve had hundreds of voices echoing in my head while Peter killed people right in front of me-“

 _“Peter?”_ Stiles hisses. “Peter Hale?”

Lydia hesitantly nods. “Did you know him?”

“Did I know- _Jesus, Lyds._ How do _you_ know him?”

“He was my alpha.”

So many things click into place in Stiles’s mind at her simple statement and it makes him absolutely sick. Vehemently he shakes his head at her, eyes wild with anger bubbling closer and closer to the surface. “You never said it was Peter.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Peter Hale? That guy is the _worst_ -"

“Trust me, I’m aware of that.”

There’s too much defeat in her voice, something Stiles doesn’t remember hearing in her ever, and it makes him pause. He watches the way she avoids his gaze, her bottom lip pulled anxiously between her teeth. He knows there’s something more. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” she responds almost automatically but then sighs and shakes her head to herself. “Well he didn’t do anything _to_ me, really. He didn’t hurt me. He just… He used to make me go with him when he was going somewhere he thought he could be in danger. He wanted me there to let him know when his death was coming so he could get away. I screamed for so many people, Stiles. Watched entire packs ambushed and wiped out. I tried to scream to warn them but none of them listened to me. I watched Peter kill all of them.”

His amber eyes move across her face as his mind works to process what she’s telling him. “He didn’t tell you why he was killing them?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. He’d just show up and demand I go with him, saying I owed him because he saved my life and then threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what he told me to.” Her eyes grow weary at the memory but her tone is suddenly strong and decisive. “When I finally felt his death coming, I didn’t scream. Peter didn’t deserve a warning.”

Stiles’s anger dissipates at the pain shining in her eyes. Carefully he reaches out and takes her hand, intertwining their fingers in her lap. “Peter is the one who bit Scott. He bit _you_ when you were 16 and then proceeded to completely terrorize you. He didn’t save your life, Lyds. That guy, he just- God… _Everything_ he told you is a lie.”

Slowly Lydia lets his words sink in, absorbing them and contemplating all the things she thought she knew. “Okay.”

He lifts a brow at her. “That’s it? Okay?”

She simply nods and leans into him. “I believe you. I always thought it didn’t add up, but I didn’t know…”

Stiles sighs and chews the inside of his lip anxiously. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. You never should’ve had to go through any of that alone.”

Shrugging, she tries to brush it off like it’s no big deal even though both of them know it is. “I made it through it.”

“You did,” he agrees with a hint of pride in his voice before he presses his lips against her forehead. 

A few moments pass in heavy silence, both of their minds quietly racing. Lydia breaks it first once she can’t stand to think about Peter for another second.

“You going in to work today?”

“Later,” he breathes and let’s his eyes fall shut. “Right now, I just want to stay here with you a little longer, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

———

 

Lydia leans back against Stiles’s desk as he rolls his evidence board in front of her but he doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the bloody photos spread across it.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Because you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” she assures him, quickly straightening as she looks over at him. “You said I used to help with this stuff all the time.”

He sighs to himself and nods, knowing this is definitely too much, too soon but he’d been so eager to let her come with because he couldn’t leave her. There’s no way he could have come in to work without her at his side no matter how badly he needs to figure out this case. He’s not ready to be away from her at all just yet.

“Yeah, you did. We used to figure everything out together.”

Lydia smiles softly at that and he does too. He goes to stand at her side when he hears footsteps approaching as a few deputies make their way into the station followed by his father, who slips into his office alone.

He presses a quick kiss against Lydia’s cheek. “Give me a sec, okay?” Off her nod, he steps back and crosses the rows of desks to knock on his father’s door.

“Come in.”

Slipping inside, he flashes a tight smile when the sheriff glances up from his paperwork before continuing to dig through the stack. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were taking a personal day.”

“Thought I would let Lydia take a look at everything and see if she could help.” Stiles digs his hands anxiously into his pockets before adding, “You know, like she used to.”

The sheriff freezes over his desk, cautiously lifting his gaze to meet his son’s.

“Scott gave me back my memories.” Stiles watches his father, gaze narrowing thoughtfully as he steps further into the room. “Is that what you were going to tell me the other night? About Lydia?”

His father nods, his tired eyes weary. “Scott asked me to wait. He thought maybe you two needed more time.”

Stiles goes quiet and turns back toward the door, looking through the glass to watch Lydia so focused on the board by his desk. 

Slowly his father makes his way to his side, setting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I never agreed with your decision, Stiles. I wanted Scott to give you your memories back the second he told me he had them. But you didn’t know any better and I was still just so happy to have you back after we were all sure you were dead… As time passed, it was too easy to pretend it was okay.”

Stiles drops his chin to his chest.

“Lydia’s part of you though. You’ve been different without her. Maybe not completely, but enough.” The sheriff smiles sadly to himself, gaze glinting with something far off. “The way I’ve never really been the same without your mother.”

Stiles’s amber eyes jump to his father’s. “Dad…”

His father clears his throat and keeps them focused on the woman in the other room. “How is she doing with all of this?”

“She thought she had amnesia so she wasn’t shocked to find out there was this whole life she didn’t know about. She’ll be okay. She’s always been strong.”

The sheriff presses his lips together, gaze turning soft as he looks out at the banshee.

“Do you want to talk to her-“

“Another time,” the sheriff cuts in quietly, stepping away and heading back to his desk. “If either of you need anything to help with the investigation you let me know, okay?”

Confused, Stiles watches his dad begin digging through the giant stack of papers on his desk again. A moment passes and Stiles realizes his father isn’t going to say anything else so he quietly lets himself out of the office.

When he reaches Lydia’s side, he slides up and leans against the desk next to her. For a moment he just watches the way she studies the evidence board, her gaze moving meticulously over the red strings and gruesome photos. He takes her hand and presses closer to her side, noticing how the setting sun outside the windows is shining in her green eyes along with her mounting frustration.

“Anything?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“You don’t need to look for anything. You need to feel it.”

“Feel it?”

“Yeah, you sense things. You know, like, banshee stuff.”

“Banshee stuff?” she repeats him again with a huff. “Stiles, all I do is zone out and find bodies. I rarely can even make out the voices I hear and that’s only when the person who’s about to die is right in front of me. Usually it’s all just a giant, headache inducing jumble.”

His brow furrows thoughtfully, eyes dancing across her face as something occurs to him. “You don’t know, do you? You don’t remember how powerful you are.”

She lets out a short laugh of disbelief and shakes her head. “I’m not powerful.”

“You are, Lyds,” he shoots back, squeezing her hand and pinning her with the seriousness of his gaze. “In a lot of ways, you’re more powerful than any of the wolves, even Scott. The things you can do, the people you’ve helped us save… You can do incredible things.”

Her eyes grow soft at his words and then she’s pressing her lips together and looking over at him in awe.

“I’ll help, okay?” He reaches up and cups her cheek. “I’ll teach you all the things you can’t remember.”

“How?”

Eyes darting between hers, his mind races until it suddenly hits him. “I have an idea.”

 

———

 

Fingers laced tightly together, Stiles carefully leads Lydia between the trees with his flashlight while the dark, moonless sky shimmers with stars overhead. It doesn’t take long for them to reach the small clearing with the familiar tree stump at the center of it.

Lydia hovers behind him and grips his hand tighter at the sight of it, the memory of all the times she’s doodled the intricate expanse of roots along with the framed photo she’d seen this morning now fresh in her mind. “Stiles? What are we doing here?”

Stiles turns to her and squeezes her hand back reassuringly. “Banshee stuff.”

Anxiously, she steps closer to him. “What am I supposed to do? There’s not a body.”

“Listen.”

“Listen?”

He nods and brushes her hair back from her cheek. “You need to listen to the voices, find out what they’re trying to tell you. What better place than the one where everything is happening? The place that you keep getting called to.”

“Okay.” She lets out a shaky breath and reluctantly nods. “Okay, _okay_ … Listen.” Closing her eyes, she tries to keep her breathing even and bring the murmur in the back of her mind to the forefront.

Stiles watches her carefully, heart pounding as her features even out with an unnatural calm as the seconds pass.

Abruptly her eyes snap open, her green irises heavy and wild. She furrows her brow and turns away from Stiles, looking past him at the Nemeton. Mindlessly she untangles her hand from his and steps out of his reach, walking steadily toward the ancient tree stump.

Following close behind, Stiles keeps focused on her every movement, ready to protect her in a second if he has to.

Shakily, Lydia reaches out and lays her palm against the rough wood and the murmur of voices roars against the inside of her skull. She jumps back and bumps against Stiles’s chest, shaking her head as he wraps her up in his arms from behind. “I can’t, Stiles. I don’t understand what they’re saying. There’s too many of them!”

He tucks her against his chest, running his hand against her side to calm her as his mind works to recall all the details of banshees and Lydia that he now has at his disposal. It’s not long behind he knows exactly what has to happen now.

“You have to scream, Lyds,” he urges against her ear.

She shakes her head again even though she can somehow already feel the urge to follow his command building in the back of her throat. “There’s not a body. Why would I scream if there’s not a body?”

“It’ll help you focus. It will drown out the rest of the voices so you can hear what you need to, okay? You trust me, right?”

She nods quickly but can’t speak again for fear of letting out the sound right then.

“Scream, Lydia.” Suddenly he’s releasing her from his hold and stepping back in a rush. “Scream!”

Without another second of delay, she follows his command and lets out a sound so powerful Stiles swears the trees tremble around them as he scrambles to cover his ears and drown it out. It has all the strength he remembers her having senior year, after Eichen and the beast had forced her powers to expand wether she wanted them to or not.

Her fists clench at her sides and her body pitches forward as she forces the sound out from between her lips. Then it all stops as abruptly as it started and the world around her is impossibly quiet, no sound left except for one solitary voice.

A moment passes and then Lydia laughs to herself, a short and breathless chuckle of surprise. 

Stiles’s heartbeat picks up. “What? Lydia, what is it?”

“I think someone is trying to mess with me.” Lydia turns to him with confusion and a hint of amusement mixing up her features. “One of them just asked me to solve a riddle.”

“A riddle?” Stiles swallows roughly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What riddle?”

“Everyone has it, but no one can lose it.”

 

———

 

There are other memories Stiles got back from Scott. Memories that on the surface have nothing to do with Lydia at all. At some point though, she became so ingrained in him that she didn’t even have to be there to be at the very center of his life. 

Like she was during all the time he’d been missing after high school; all the months he’d been forced to spend far away from Beacon Hills. 

Now he remembers the men that had been so intent on finding the Nogitsune again. Remembers being imprisoned and tortured on the other side of the world because he’d been the last one to have the evil spirit living in his mind and the only one to ever survive it. Lydia was his focal point through all of it. His memories of her were his place to escape when he couldn’t handle what was happening to him. She kept him holding on.

It’s the memory of all those months away that turn his nightmares into night terrors and wake him up screaming, kicking and shoving against blankets and sheets and hands.

“Stiles! Stiles, it’s okay!”

Sobbing at the sound of her voice, the fight leaves him instantly and he goes limp in her arms.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

But he’s not. His lungs are on fire, burning with the need for oxygen the way they had in his dream. The same way they had when those men had drowned him in a tub of ice and mistletoe to recreate the ritual that let the Nogitsune into his mind in the first place. He remembers fighting for air until he couldn’t anymore; until he felt that momentarily relief as his lungs filled with water and the pressure in his head disappeared as his heart stopped without his anchor there to pull him back from death.

“Stiles, look at me.”

Blearily, he opens his eyes and squints up at Lydia in the darkness of his bedroom. Only then does he realize he’s panicking, struggling to breathe as she brushes her fingers against his cheek.

“Shh, Stiles.”

He holds his breath before she kisses him this time because it’s such unbelievable deja vu that it overwhelms everything else. Her lips press against his for just a moment, the angle as he lays all wrapped up with her too awkward for anything more. 

It’s the same affect as before though. She pulls back and he’s calm, breathing steadily and looking at her in complete awe.

“You okay, man?”

Stiles glances past Lydia for the first time and finds Scott a few feet away, hovering worriedly just inside the doorway.

“Yeah,” he nods shakily and drops his head back against Lydia’s lap. “I’m okay. Go back to bed.”

Scott looks like he doesn’t quite believe him but he still gives in and lets it go, nodding gently. He heads for the door but something makes him hesitate. “You know I already called everyone. Kira, Malia, Derek, and Argent are all coming here tomorrow. Isaac is even flying in from France. We’ll figure it out, Stiles. I promise.”

Stiles nods but his heart is still pounding and he knows the alpha can hear it. Lydia is there now though and Scott knows the banshee will take care of his best friend so he steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

As soon as they’re alone Lydia lays at his side again, curling into him as he does the same to her. Gingerly she runs her fingers up and down his side, eyes fixed on his as he focuses on slowly breathing in and out.

“You dreamt about all those things you were telling me last night, didn’t you? About the Nogitsune?”

He simply lifts a shoulder in response and presses closer to her, tangling his legs with hers.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I just…” She trails off and presses her lips together, studying him for a long moment before trying a different approach. “You know when I woke up from a nightmare in Boston, I read to myself.”

He quirks a brow at her curiously before a fond yet tired smile finds it’s way to his lips. “Of course you did, you nerd.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes and tries not to smirk at him. “It helps. It will take your mind off of it.”

He opens his mouth to brush it off, eager to push aside the lingering memories of his dream and act as though it’s no big deal but she’s already crawling out of his hold and out of bed all together. He watches as she flips on his bedside lamp and then pads around barefoot until she finds a stack of books on the side of his desk. She comes comes back with something worn and old that he recognizes as one of his favorites from before all of this supernatural stuff, holding it out to him expectantly.

He laughs and shakes his head softly at her. “You seriously want me to read right now? And you’re just going to lay there and watch me?”

“I’ll be listening actually since you’ll be reading out loud,” she explains with a shrug of her shoulders. “It will force you to focus on the words and keep your mind from wandering.”

He eyes her like she’s crazy so she huffs and pulls the book into her lap as she settles back into bed. “Fine, I’ll start.”

She opens the book and it only takes a few sentences in for him to give in and curl against her side, throwing his arm across her waist and nuzzling against her chest. Her low, raspy voice rumbles under his ear and finds a gentle lilting rhythm that reverberates inside him.

It’s when she pauses to turn the page that he leans up and kisses her, warm and gentle on the corner of her mouth.

“I love you.”

Her cheeks flush and her eyes falls shut, absorbing his words before she presses her forehead to his.

He doesn’t expect her to say it back, knows how long it took before and how complicated it is now. He needs her to know though, no matter what. “I love you so much, Lyds. I’m so glad you came back here to me.”

She takes a shaky breath and pulls back. “Me too.”

His insides are all gooey when she resumes reading and her soft words break the quiet of his bedroom once again.

She’s right that it takes his mind off of his nightmare. Her raspy voice pulls him into the story, occupies his mind until he can barely keep his eyes open as he presses somehow closer against her side. There’s a needling thought in the back of his mind though, one that he can’t quite drown out.

“Hey Lyds?”

“Hmm?” she hums as she turns to the next chapter.

“What did you have nightmares about? When you were in Boston?”

“I don’t know,” she quietly admits. “They terrified me but I couldn’t remember anything after I woke up. I was never sure if that was a good thing or not.”

Stiles frowns as he studies her profile, his mind helplessly picturing Lydia so scared and all alone, trying anything to calm down. 

Gently he reaches out and takes the book from between her fingers. “I can read for awhile if you want.”

A melancholy smile curls her lips, her eyes bright as she nods. “Thank you.”

 

———

 

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever thought of the word shy when it comes to Lydia but today she’s been exactly that, shy and quiet as she stands at his side and avoids the looks from the various people sitting around the living room. All people who know Lydia even though she doesn’t know them anymore, observing her like she’s a science experiment gone wrong.

“How do we know she’s not just hearing one of her memories?” Derek questions with his eyes trained on the banshee. “It could be something trying to resurface from being back in Beacon Hills.”

“He has a point,” Malia seconds from where she’s curled up on the couch. “You said that thing was buried on the other side of the world. There’s no way it could be back.”

“Actually it could be.” Scott pushes forward from the wall and steps into the center of the room. “There’s no way for Isaac to check if it’s still trapped in triskelion box without letting it out if it is. He’s bringing it back for Deaton to look at.”

Stiles lets out a shaky sigh and drops his head, nervously futzing his fingers.

Lydia reaches out and takes his hand, trying to give him a reassuring look before she forces herself to speak up for the first time. “Whatever I heard wasn’t a memory. That voice was talking right to me. It was happening then, I know it.”

“Why would the Nogitsune come back here then?” Derek all but growls. “Why would it kill those kids?”

“Maybe there isn’t a good reason,” Deaton offers. “Maybe it’s simply looking for it’s revenge.”

“Revenge?” Argent lets out a dark chuckle, shaking his head to himself as all eyes are drawn to him. “It killed Allison. Shouldn’t we be the ones looking for revenge?”

The room falls silent, a heaviness descending upon them all at the dark words. 

It’s then that Stiles feels Lyda squeeze his hand to get his attention, her body sliding up closer so she can whisper against his ear. “Who’s Allison?”

All of the other supernatural creatures turn toward her sharply because _of course_ they still heard her but it’s the pity in Derek’s eyes and the devastation in Scott’s that causes her to shrink back.

Stiles swallows roughly, amber eyes wet when he looks down at her. “Allison- She, uh… She was your best friend.”

The banshee’s face goes slack as she absorbs the information, despair shining in her eyes for the briefest of moments. “Oh.”

“Lyds-“

“And the Nogitsune killed her?” Lydia cuts him off, her gaze narrowing. “The voice that asked me a riddle? That’s what killed her?”

Stiles nods softly but it’s Scott’s rough voice that speaks up from across the room. “She died saving you from it, Lydia. She would have done anything for you.”

It takes a moment for Lydia to take that in and process it but once she has she stands a bit taller, determination in her eyes as she looks back at the alpha. “Then we need to kill it. For her.”

A sad smile curls Stiles’s lips in awe of her strength as Scott simply nods, no argument against killing because maybe for once the alpha wants his revenge too. 

Argent’s eyes darken from across the room. “What’s the plan then?”

Stiles shakes his head. “We don’t need a plan. We just need to be ready to fight.”

“Stiles is right,” Scott seconds, looking fiercely around the room. “We know this thing. We know how it works. Chaos, strife, pain… It feeds off of that. There’s no way that it won’t bring the fight to us at some point. We have to be ready for it.” 

“I’ll be ready,” Argent mutters, stepping back from the circle of the pack and stomping toward the door.

Deaton nods his assent as well and takes a step back. “I have some wolf lichen at the clinic I can give you, Scott, in case you need it. There may still be some kanima venom as well but I’ll have to check.”

“Thank you.”

Deaton follows Argent out the door and Derek leaves as well, throwing something about calling Scott later over his shoulder. 

Once the door closes, the rest of them fall into heavy silence. Stiles doesn’t miss the way Kira stares at the floor to avoid eye contact with anyone while Malia stares unabashedly directly at Lydia, eyes narrowed as she appraises her. Sighing to himself, he suddenly feels how awkward this whole situation really is.

“So everybody knows everything now?” Malia eventually blurts, abruptly breaking the silence. “Does that mean Kira can move back?”

Kira’s cheeks flush pink, eyes wide at the werecoyote. _“Malia-"_

“What? You don’t have to avoid Stiles anymore so everything should be good.”

“I haven’t been avoiding Stiles, I…” the kitsune trails off, her eyes finally finding their way to Stiles’s and then hesitantly sliding to meet Lydia’s. Instantly Kira’s eyes fill to the brim. “I haven’t been avoiding you, _either_ of you. Not really, I mean. I just… I wouldn’t have been able to pretend I didn’t know you, Lydia. I would have ruined it all within five seconds of seeing you again.”

Lydia’s eyes soften, her heart warming as she realizes without even having to ask that the other woman used to be her friend. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Stiles seconds with a reassuring smile. “This whole situation is definitely unusual and you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“That’s true,” Malia agrees with a snort.

Scott wraps his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder as he narrows his eyes on the werecoyote. “Why are you so eager to get rid of her anyway?”

Malia shrugs as if it’s so simple. “Alex never wants to do anything with her in the next room. At least not anything that will make me growl.”

Lydia can’t help it when she laughs out loud, grinning at the other girl in amusement as the other three shift uncomfortably at the blunt statement.

The werecoyote smiles back, pushing herself off the couch before she looks around the room. “You know, I’m pretty sure I was promised there would be food at this thing.”

“This was a pack meeting. Not brunch, Malia.”

Kira scrunches her face anxiously at Stiles’s statement. “I may have mentioned that sometimes you make pancakes. And that Scott makes the best eggs and bacon.”

“Aw, did you miss us cooking for you?”

Scott rolls his eyes at his best friend and holds his girlfriend tighter. “I can make something if you want.”

“Thank god. I’m starving,” Malia groans and makes her way toward the kitchen.

“Me too,” Kira admits as she pulls her boyfriend into the kitchen too. “Malia keeps surprisingly little food in her apartment.”

Lydia goes to follow but Stiles squeezes her hand and holds her there with him, smiling gently when she looks up at him.

“You okay?”

The corner of her mouth quirks up at him as she nods. She hesitates though, her fingers toying with his as she thinks. “Allison… Was she the girl in those pictures? With the long brown hair? The one that was with Scott?”

“Yeah,” Stiles croaks, his amber eyes soft. “That was her.”

Lydia nods and bites her lip. “I thought so. I was wondering why she wasn’t here today too.”

“I can tell you about her if you want. Scott can tell you even more if you ask him.”

“Someday.” She smiles up at him, sadness hiding behind her eyes. “I used to be friends with Kira and Malia too, right?”

“They’re still your friends,” Stiles corrects as laughter reaches them from the other room. He kisses her forehead and gives her a reassuring smile before he steps back, tugging her with him. “I bet you still love my pancakes, too.”

Lydia chuckles, putting aside the heaviness in her heart as she lets herself be pulled toward the kitchen. “I’d be willing to test that theory.”

 

———

 

Isaac shows up at the apartment in the middle of the night with shadows under his eyes, a scarf around his neck, and a bag slung over his shoulder.

Scott greets him at the door, pulling him immediately into a fierce hug with years of friendship behind it. Then the alpha steps aside so Kira can hug the other werewolf and Lydia gets her first good look at him from where she and Stiles are hovering a few feet away in the living room.

She freezes when she sees his face, eyes wide as she grips Stiles’s hand tight in her own.

The human eyes her strangely, then darts his gaze back to their visitor who has clearly caused a strong reaction in his girlfriend. His eyes widen indignantly as turns on her in disbelief. 

“ _Isaac?_ Isaac frickin’ Lahey?! You remember him, out of all the people-”

“I- I don’t-“ she stutters, shaking her head and pressing into his side as Isaac moves closer.

“Hello Stiles,” the tall werewolf mutters but his eyes are fixed uncertainly on the strawberry blonde. “Lydia.”

She swallows roughly and drops her gaze.

Stiles looks between the two of them anxiously. “Okay, someone better tell me what the hell is going on here.”

“Lydia and I kind of crossed paths last summer.”

“Crossed paths?” The human repeats, nauseous at the first thought that pops into his head. “Oh. You two…?”

Lydia shakes her head, looking cautiously at the man before her. “He saved my life.”

“You never told me about that,” Scott interjects and quickly steps forward.

Isaac shrugs helplessly. “Because I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“Understand what?”

Stiles narrows his eyes on the tall werewolf. “Yeah, Isaac. What’d you do?”

“He killed Peter,” Lydia whispers, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Oh, Isaac…”

“What, Scott? You don’t know what he was doing.” Isaac turns pleadingly toward the alpha. “I’d heard stories about a werewolf that was wiping out whole packs, trying to take power from as many alphas as he could. I didn’t know it was Peter until that night. I was going to run to call you right then but I heard someone scream and I knew it was Lydia. I couldn’t just leave her.” Isaac glances at the banshee who’s eyes are wet at the memory. “One of the betas in the pack was about to snap her neck before I stopped him.”

“Jesus,” Stiles breathes, holding Lydia closer.

“Peter saw me after that and attacked me. It was either him or me. He would have killed me, Scott. I swear.”

“It’s true,” Lydia speaks up, her voice cracking. “Peter didn’t allow survivors.”

Scott is conflicted as he looks around at his pack members before settling his gaze on Isaac. Eventually he nods. “I believe you. You still should have told me though, especially about Lydia being in danger. I thought she was TA’ing all last summer. I had no idea she even left Boston.”

The banshee tenses at that, feeling slightly creeped out and yet strangely touched at the notion that Scott has been keeping tabs on her for who knows how long.

“Well, I didn’t know about the whole memory thing at the time, alright? Nobody ever told me any of it until I asked Malia about Lydia a few days later. I checked in on her, made sure she was safe though. I promise. Telling you after that wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Still, you should have… I don’t know…” Scott trails off and sighs in frustration. “I mean, what the hell was Peter doing in France anyway?”

An awkward beat passes before all eyes turn toward Lydia, who in turn glares around the room at all of them. “Don’t look at me. He never told me anything.”

“I kind of thought he might have been looking for this,” Isaac speaks up as he pulls the triskelion box from his bag, holding it carefully out in front of him.

Stiles tenses at the sight of it, shrinking instinctively away and pulling Lydia back a step with him.

“Why would he want the Nogitsune?” the alpha wonders.

“Because he was a power hungry asshole-”

Stiles snorts. “Understatement of the century.”

“- and the nogitsune was one of the most powerful things we ever faced,” Isaac continues fiercely. “Think if Peter had that thing on his side along with the power he’d taken from all those alphas. He was preparing for battle, Scott. Probably against you and the pack.”

Scott drops his gaze, trying to absorb all of it as Kira moves to his side and wraps her arm around his waist in silent support. 

“You’re sure he’s dead?” Stiles speaks up, his voice low and rough. “It could be him doing all of this. He could have released the Nogitsune.”

Isaac shakes his head. “I burned the body. I made sure it’s over.”

A heavy silence falls over the apartment, the finality of the death of a man who changed all of their lives soaking in. 

“We, uh, we should take that to the clinic,” Scott’s quiet voice eventually breaks the tension as he motions toward the triskelion box, “get it locked up so Deaton can look at it right away in the morning. You going to crash here?”

Slipping the box back into his bag, he shakes his head. “No, I told Argent I’d stay with him. Tomorrow he wants me to give him all the details about the site where the triskelion box was buried.”

Scott nods. “Well, we should get going then. I can drop you off over there after.”

“Be careful,” Kira urges quietly before giving her boyfriend a quick kiss.

Stiles waves while Lydia tries to smile at them before they head out the door.

“I think I’m going to try to get some more sleep.” Kira crosses her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she heads back toward her and Scott’s room. “Goodnight you guys.”

“Night,” Stiles calls after her, waiting until he hears the door click closed before he looks to Lydia. “You want to go back to bed too?”

She shrugs, her green eyes weary. “Do you?”

“Not really. I don’t think there’s any way I could fall back asleep now.”

“Me neither,” she admits with a sigh. “It’s only a couple of hours until sunrise anyways.”

“Solid logic.” Stiles gives her a warm smile, intertwining his fingers with hers. ”Maybe we can read again? Like last night?”

Her eyes grow soft, her memories of Peter falling to the back of her mind at the simple sweetness of his suggestion. “I’d like that.”

 

———

 

“You know, there’s another coffee shop by my apartment. One just a few blocks away with a drive up that’s right on my way to work.” 

Lydia raises a brow at him curiously as she idly sips at her steaming drink, relishing in the caffeine after their mostly sleepless night.

“I’ve been coming to this place for years, though. Anytime I was home from college and from the day I moved back after graduation, I’ve come to this place every morning without ever thinking about how random it is.” Stiles wraps his hands around his hot cup of black coffee and leans across the small table toward Lydia. “I remember now that I used to come here with you.”

She sets down her cup and a warm smile curls her lips. “You did?”

He grins back at her and nods. “The last few months of high school, we’d stop here every morning on the way to school and even on the weekends because you had to have your ridiculous coffee to function. By graduation I couldn’t go without it either because you got me addicted to caffeine.”

A small laughs escape her and Stiles feels his heart warm at the sound. Reaching across the table, he covers her hand with his and runs his thumb across her fingers. “You doing okay?”

She bites her lip and nods before looking up at him. “Are you?”

Stiles nods as well, looking down at their hands joined on the table. “I wish there was more I could do but I have no leads to who it could be. It’s so hard to just wait for it to come to us, you know?”

“I know. I keep expecting to end up at that tree stump again, standing over another body.”

“I wish I could say that won’t happen-”

“But it probably will,” she finishes for him quietly.

He hates the way her shoulders deflate, how her eyes are so melancholy as she looks down at her drink. It tugs at something deep inside him and suddenly he’s squeezing her hand to get her attention and trying to smile for her. 

“Hey, how’s your thesis coming?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject to something he knows makes her happy. “You haven’t mentioned it in awhile.”

The question catches Lydia off guard and she lets out a rueful laugh, shaking her head to herself. “I haven’t thought about it in days, actually. I’ve barely touched any of it the last few weeks.”

Stiles furrows his brow in concern. “You haven’t? But I thought you have a lot you still need to do.“

“I do,” she admits, sighing to herself. “It’s just hard to concentrate with all of this going on.”

He squeezes her hand. “This will be over soon. I promise, everything will go back to normal.”

She nods but it’s distracted and off hand before she takes a sip of her drink to avoid his gaze.

A couple of beats of silence pass between them and Stiles tries again to get her talking. “So, uh, I’m assuming you’re expected back in Boston at some point.”

She shrugs. “I took an indefinite leave from my position at the lab to come back here. They said it was fine if I took the whole summer but fall semester starts in a little over month.”

“And you’ll go back then?”

“I haven’t thought about it, really. I guess not if I’m still finding bodies-“

Stiles vehemently shakes his head. “No. No matter what you’re going back there and you’re finishing that degree.”

Hurt shines in her eyes before she can hide it away as she tugs her hand out from under his. “I didn’t realize you were so eager for me to go back-”

“Oh, I’m coming with you,” he declares, grabbing her hand again before she can hide it below the table.

“Oh you are, are you?”

“Well, yeah.” His cheeks flush at the way she looks at him, her eyes glinting with something as she scrutinizes him. “I mean, uh- Well, if that’s okay with you? I-“

Lydia leans across the table and stops his rambling with at kiss, steady and warm with the taste of her coffee on her tongue.

Stiles’s eyes are bright when she pulls back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes and smirks back at him.

He can feel warmth spreading through his chest as a laugh bubbles up from inside him. Mindlessly he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and pulls it out to see a new message, his face falling as soon he reads the words from his best friend.

“What is it?”

“The triskelion box was empty.” Stiles drops his phone and rakes his hand through his hair, his anxiety rising by the second. “I mean, I knew it was back after what you heard but I just…”

“You were hoping I was wrong.”

“Naively, yes.” He quirks his mouth at her sadly. “I knew you weren’t though. You never are.”

She leans closer to him from across the table, eyes uncertain as she squeezes his hand. “So what do we do?”

“We stick together. Everywhere you go, I go. Okay? And if you end up in a fugue state, I’ll be there to keep you safe and call Scott and everyone else to come fight if I need to.”

Lydia presses her lips together at the intensity behind his words. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“All my plans are good plans,” he promises but then he remembers how she used to tease him about all the awful plans she has no idea about anymore. He shrugs and drops his gaze. “Well, most of them are, anyway.”

“I trust you,” Lydia assures him quietly, giving him a soft smile. “I’m assuming we’re headed to the station then?”

“Just for a little bit. I want to look over everything again and see if there are any clues I missed.”

“Are you going to tell your dad about all of this?”

“Not yet,” Stiles admits quietly though he’s obviously conflicted about it. “I will if I have to, it’s just… I don’t want to worry him if I don’t have you, you know?”

“I get it.” Lydia reaches out and skims her fingers along the moles on his cheek. “I’ll worry about you enough for both of us.”

 

———

 

Lydia crawls out of bed and slips carefully out from under the warmth of Stiles’s hold. The second her feet hit the floor she hears him start to murmur in his sleep and when she turns to look back at him he’s nuzzling against the sheets where she’d just been laying.

Smiling to herself, she slowly steps back and tries not to make a sound as she pulls on Stiles’s discarded t-shirt over her bra and panties. Carefully she sneaks out of his room, making her way through the dark apartment toward the kitchen in search of a glass of water to soothe her burning throat.

She reaches out to flip on the overhead light by the fridge but in the blink of an eye everything changes completely and she finds herself pressing a button instead, confused as it lights up under her finger.

Something dings and then heavy doors slide shut in front of her, sending her shrinking back. Panic tightens her chest as it hits her she’s in an elevator, clearly having wandered off in another fugue state to someplace she doesn’t recognize at all. Rapidly she blinks at her warped reflection in the metal walls where her whole body is shaking with cold and fear, still barefoot in nothing but Stiles’s shirt.

The elevator hums to life around her and suddenly it’s moving, rising all too fast toward the designation she chose. Logically she knows she can hit another button, get off at a different floor and avoid whatever the hell her mind is leading her in to. Something stops her though, the same instincts that brought her here keeping her from running away.

The elevator dings again as the doors slide open and she slowly steps out into the still and silent hallway. Four doors are spread along the walls but again she somehow just knows which one she’s supposed to go to.

Her heart is pounding out of control when she stops in front of it, fear overwhelming her as she tries to gain the courage to open the door.

Before she can though it clicks open for her, Mr. Argent stepping into the doorway with his ice blue eyes fixed on her in a penetrating glare.

“I was wondering when you were going to finally show up.” 

Opening the door wider, he nods back into the darkness where Lydia can just make out Isaac’s body curled up and too still on the floor. 

“I’ve been keeping this one bleeding out for hours now, which is a lot more work than you’d think. That’s the great thing about werewolves though, the healing makes the fun part last forever.”

“You,” she breathes as nausea swells in the pit of her stomach and the voices start to hiss at the back of her mind. “It’s you. You’re the Nogitsune.”

Argent steps forward and Lydia stumbles back into the wall behind her. He advances on her immediately, trapping her there with his arms and sneering in her face.

“I know you don’t remember me anymore, banshee. You don’t remember how powerful I am; all the things that I’m capable of.”

She whimpers and writhes against the wall to try to get away but he roughly grabs her by the shoulders.

“I’ll just have to show you again.”

His fist suddenly slams into the side of her face, sending the back of her head smashing against the wall. 

Everything goes black before she can take a breath to scream for help.

 

———

 

Stiles scrambles out of Scott’s car before it’s even stopped, running into the woods as fast as his feet can carry him while his heart pounds of control in his chest.

“Lydia!”

Since the moment he woke up to find her missing from his side he’s been absolutely panicking. Somehow he knows she isn’t going to be finding another body this time. He knows she’s in danger, can feel it reverberating inside of him while the leaves crunch under his feet as he runs through the preserve.

He reaches the familiar clearing and his legs quiver underneath him, nearly giving out when he finds Lydia huddled up against the side of the Nemeton just like all the bodies she’d found before.

“Lydia?” He falls to his knees before her, taking her pale face in his hands and shaking her awake.

Blearily she blinks her eyes open. “Stiles?”

“What happened?” he frantically demands even though he’s more than a little relieved when her green eyes find his. “Where are you hurt?”

Dazedly Lydia shakes her head and weakly pushes away his hands when he appraises the harsh bruise on her cheek and starts checking her for other injuries. “You have to go. You need to leave…”

“What? No way, Lyds. I’m not leaving you.”

“He’s gonna kill you.”

“Who?”

“Him,” a new voice whispers and Stiles whips around to see his best friend hovering behind them, red eyes shining as he stares across the Nemeton and into the trees. Following his gaze, Stiles freezes at the sight of Argent smirking at them in a way that doesn’t fit.

“So good of you to join us, boys.” 

“It’s- You- _You’re the_ -“ Stiles stutters, wide eyed as he tightens his grip on Lydia.

The Nogitsune wearing Argent’s face reaches the other side of the nemeton and leans over it, slamming his fists against the rough surface as he leers at them. “I was beginning to think we needed to send you an invitation. I was just trying to decide what would be the best motivation for our little banshee to scream: if I hurt someone else or if I hurt her. Too bad we won’t get to find out.”

Stiles pulls Lydia to her feet, holding her up against him as he backs away. “How are you here?!”

“I don’t really think that matters, do you? The important question is why but I’ve already heard your theories about that one.” 

Scott growls and steps forward, shielding Stiles and Lydia with his claws and fangs bared.

The demon laughs and shakes his head mockingly at the werewolf. “I don’t think you want to do that, Scott. This isn’t going to be the same kind of fight as last time.”

Stiles hears the metallic click before he even sees the gun. Instinctively he pulls Lydia impossibly closer as the Nogitsune draws his weapon, revealing some ridiculously threatening piece taken from Argent’s personal collection. 

The demon smirks and trains it on Stiles, aiming it precisely at the human’s head.

Scott jumps in front of his best friend. “I thought all you wanted chaos? Strife? Just shooting Stiles won’t get you that!”

“What do you think these few weeks have been about? The way each of them struggled when I took them, crying in agony as they bled out, begging me to let them live. No, I don’t need this to be anything more than a win. You and Lydia will provide plenty of strife once Stiles is gone. Then I’ll make sure to draw your deaths out as long as I can.”

“You son of a bitch,” Stiles grinds out between gritted teeth. “The is over. It has been for years! You lost!”

The Nogitsune just laughs, grinning in amusement. “If I truly had lost I wouldn’t be here. You only paused the game when you buried me. I’ve been waiting to win this for years.”

Scott notices the Nogitsune just barely move the gun to one side and knows he’s aiming again and getting ready to shoot. There’s no other option at that point but to attack so that’s what he does, running full force at the demon and taking a bullet to his shoulder before he descends upon him.

The shot rings out in the forrest and Lydia and Stiles watch wide eyed as Scott absorbs the hit and continues to fight despite it, punching and clawing with all his strength. 

Stiles takes the opportunity to get Lydia to safety, hiding her behind the trunk of another massive tree and helping her to sit at the base of it. “Stay here, okay?”

Lydia shakes her head fiercely and grabs his arm to keep him with her. “If you don’t leave-“

“I’ll be fine,” he promises automatically because he doesn’t care what happens to him. His only concern is that her and Scott make it out. “We’ll beat him.”

“We won’t! Not before-”

The gun goes off again and echoes all around them, punctuated by a cry of absolute agony that Stiles knows is Scott’s. He doesn’t even think before he takes off, ripping his arm from Lydia’s grasp and running right into the middle of it all.

“Stiles!” she yells after him and crawls around the side of the tree. She sees him barrel into the Nogitsune and tackle him to the ground with a strength she didn’t realize he had while Scott lays curled up on his side with too much blood soaking the front of his shirt and flowing between his fingers.

Stiles only has the upper hand on the Nogitsune long enough to land a few searing punches and then it ends as abruptly as it started. The demon shoves the human off of him and slams him back against the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Stunned and fighting for breath, Stiles can’t stop the Nogitsune from crawling over him and giving back a couple punches of his own and Lydia can hear the sickening, wet sound of Stiles’s blood squishing under his fist.

The Nogitsune lets out a twisted laugh of pure joy as he fits his hands around Stiles’s throat, veins running black as he squeezes and presses down with all his might. “I’ve been waiting for this, Stiles. All theses years…” 

Lydia watches with her heart in her throat and Stile’s death bearing down on her as he weakly pushes against demon, kicking and fighting to stay alive with everything he has left.

“This isn’t revenge. You were all wrong about that. This is victory.”

The voices are roaring against the inside of her skull, her breath frozen in her lungs and heart hammering out of control as she feels him slipping away from her.

She won’t let him go.

Pulling herself to her feet, she stumbles forward and draws in a deep breath as her eyes fall on Stiles’s bright red face and fluttering lashes as his life drains away.

She screams then before she even realizes it’s what she has to do, instincts and strengths she didn’t know she had rising up from somewhere deep inside her and tearing out of her. The air shifts around the sound, creating a concentrated force that slams into the Nogitsune with enough power to send him flying back.

Lydia feels something shift inside her, snapping in the back of her mind like a string pulled to taut and then stabbing against the side of her head. She forces herself to keep screaming through it, growing impossibly louder and stronger as the sound burns it’s way through the Nogitsune and turns him to dust and ash before her eyes.

Her scream falls off into silence once he’s gone, pain searing through her skull as something else floods her chest. 

Something feels strange. 

_Everything_ feels different.

Her whole world seems to tilt sideways, leaving her to fall to her knees and grab at her head with a pathetic whimper.

“Lydia?”

Suddenly there are hands on her, warm and achingly familiar. She lifts her face toward the voice and her heart shatters at the sight of Stiles kneeling before her, amber eyes full of concern and blood seeping from his busted lip.

“Stiles,” she chokes out his name on a sob, dizzy and overwhelmed while tears slip down her cheeks. “Stiles, you died.”

He furrows his brow at her and shakes his head, worry pooling in his gut at the look in her eyes. “I’m fine. You saved me-“

She shakes her head sharply to stop him and fists the front of his shirt. Her breathing is strained and erratic as she gasps between sobs, her whole body trembling. “You _died_.” 

He presses closer to her, taking her face in his hands in an attempt to help her focus on him and calm down but his touch just makes her cry harder and whimper high and rough in the back of her throat.

“You were dead, Stiles!”

The words hit him hard and suddenly he realizes why she’s panicking. He knows that she remembers. _“Lydia.”_

“You died,” she sobs, gaping at him. “You died! _You left me._ ”

He shakes his head, his own tears falling fast. “Lyds, breathe.”

“You left,” she whimpers, wincing and reaching for her head again as the pounding becomes overwhelming.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out sharply when he sees her faltering. His fingers automatically follow to where she’s grabbing at the side of her head, his heart stopping when he finds a spot that’s warm and wet. Blood stains his fingertips when he pulls them back and he knows it’s coming from where Valack had drilled into her head. “Lyds…”

She clutches the front of his shirt tighter and sags against him, her sobs quickly tapering off as the dizziness and pain drowns her.

Overwrought with worry, his hands shake as he helps her lay back in his arms and settle across his lap. “Lydia! Lydia, look at me!” He runs his thumb across the apple of her cheek as she blinks too slowly up at him, her eyes losing focus. He has no idea what’s happening to her or what to do to stop it. 

“Scott!” Desperately, he calls over his for his best friend because they have to get her somewhere she can get help.

Lydia shifts in his hold and all his attention is on her again instantly. “Stiles, please…”

“Anything,” he promises in a rush, brushing back her hair from her face. “Anything you want, I’ll do Lyds. Just keep looking at me, okay? Stay awake!”

“Don’t leave. Please, _please_ …”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t. Never, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Lydia doesn’t believe him, though. She’ll never be able to believe he won’t leave her again, not when she’s lost him too many times before. She tries to speak again, wants to tell him so many things, but can just barely move her lips as everything starts to fade. 

“Please stay awake, Lyds. You can’t leave me either, alright?” 

Another wave of pain swells up and washes over her and she feels herself drowning under it, too weak to fight against it any longer. 

“Lydia!”

Her lashes drift helplessly shut with her senses completely overwhelmed by Stiles’s arms trembling around her, his tears dripping on to her skin, and his raw voice ringing in her ears. She succumbs to the darkness and the wold slips away from her, taking with it the first true sense of _home_ she’s felt in years and leaving her terrified that she’ll wake up to find it stolen from her once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos and comments on the last chapter - I appreciate it so much. I'm sorry this has taken so long to update but hopefully the length of this will make up for it. I spent way too much time on this so I hope you guys enjoy!

Lydia blinks into awareness to white walls and a stillness that’s overwhelming. Blearily she takes in the small room as her senses return to her, cataloguing the steady beep and hiss of the medical equipment around the uncomfortable bed she’s in with confusion.

She can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Everything feels foggy and far off but she knows deep down something is wrong - _terribly, terribly wrong_ \- and she knows somehow she has to fix it.

Pushing herself up in bed, she rubs her eyes to clear them before noticing the other person in the room for the first time. Her heart pounds as she studies Scott, sitting hunched over in a plastic chair by the door with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

He must sense she’s awake because he looks up at her suddenly with shining, bloodshot eyes and his bottom lip gnashed between his teeth. He doesn’t say anything, just softly shakes his head and lets his tears spill over and her pulse races in fear of what awful thing could have happened to break her alpha like this.

“What happened?” she croaks, her raw voice shattering the silence.

 _“What happened?”_ Scott gapes at her. “Lydia… You— You _hurt_ yourself.”

All she can do is blink at that because she can’t remember. It seems all wrong. “I did?”

“You would have died if your mom hadn’t found you. She said you were in the bathtub, not breathing…”

It’s all comes back to her in a rush, all of it crushing down her and forcing the air from her lungs. She’s crying then before she can even take another breath, her whole body shuddering and shaking as the fog in her mind vanishes and leaves behind the raw and unbelievable truth of everything that’s happened.

 _“Stiles,”_ she sobs out, hand pressing against her chest when it feels like her lungs are about to burn out and her heart will give way under the weight of his absence.

Scott drops his head and continues to silently cry on the other side of the room, unable to bring himself to move to comfort her. They’ve cried together so many times but it’s obviously not helping anything. Everything is only getting worse.

“I… I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I just — I need to find him…” Gasping in a shaky breath, she looks down at her palm through a haze of tears and sees the small, bloody mark from when she’d gripped the key to the jeep too tight while she’d drowned herself in mistletoe and ice water.

She wasn’t supposed to wake up here. She was supposed to wake up inside her subconscious or on some other plane of existence where she could find a clue to where he is. Because he _is_ somewhere. 

_Stiles is not dead._ He can’t be. 

She can’t accept that he’s dead any more than she can erase the horrifying feeling of his heart stopping from her memory, though she knows how illogical and absolutely irrational the contradiction of those two concurrent thoughts are. He’s out there. All she needed to do was find even one clue that would prove it, any shred of hope that would lead her to him, but somehow she failed. She lost consciousness in her bathtub and woke up in the hospital, feeling more wholly alone and helpless than ever.

“I have to find him, Scott!”

The alpha sniffles and shakes his head at her again, desperate for her to see reason. “Lydia, you overdosed.”

“That’s impossible,” she cries, wiping furiously at her eyes. “I needed the pills to stay under, yes, but I only took what I needed to. I did the calculations in my head—”

“Then your math was wrong,” the alpha gently informs her. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. I get it, believe me I do, but you can’t do _this_.”

“But I —“

The door to the room abruptly slams open and Lydia stutters and then falls mournfully silent when the sheriff storms into the room, stomping right up the end of her bed with his face flushed and eyes dark.

_“What the hell is wrong with you?!”_

Lydia flinches back, trembling at the venom in his tone.

“Sheriff, I —” Scott quickly steps up and tries to calm the situation with a hand on the older man’s shoulder but the sheriff doesn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“You go and do this after all the times he risked his life to save yours?” the Sheriff spits, his eyes narrowed on her in absolute rage. “His life is stolen away from him so you decide to just throw away your own? Make everything he ever did for you worthless? _How dare you!_ ”

Lydia’s lower lip quivers violently as she tries to hold herself together, dropping her gaze because she can’t take watching Stiles’s father look at her with such hatred for a second more.

She hears the sheriff sigh to himself, his voice icily low when he mutters, “Stiles wouldn’t have wanted this.”

All she can do is sniffle pathetically as the Sheriff walks away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as something essential inside her finally gives way.

“Lydia…” Scott steps up to her side and tries to take her hand.

She shakes off his touch. “Leave me alone, Scott,” she hisses, tears dripping onto the stiff hospital sheets. _“Go.”_

He hovers there for a moment before she hears his feet reluctantly shuffle away and the door reopen and shut, leaving her all by herself. For awhile she lets herself fall apart, desperate, heartbroken sobs wracking through her and echoing off the walls until even her tears are too much for her to carry on.

By the time her mom comes in to see her, her eyes are dry and unfocused as she looks off into nothing, feeling raw and empty of everything but regret. Her mother suggests it might be good for her to get out of Beacon Hills for awhile and Lydia doesn’t argue. Instead she surprises even herself when she asks to go _now._

Eagerly her mother gets her on a plane to Seattle the very next day and her father sends a car to pick her up since he’s of course away on business. Her father’s house is cold and unfamiliar, a place she’s only been once before for an awkward weekend the previous summer. She drops her bags on the guest room floor and splays listlessly across the goose down comforter on the bed, the silence of the otherwise empty house washing over her.

Time passes agonizingly, her body unmoving while her mind constantly races, trying to somehow come to terms with feeling the exact moment of Stiles’s death and the horrible uncertainty of it that’s been constantly scratching at the back of her mind every moment since. 

Sometimes she’s sure he’s dead and she wonders idly what it would be like to follow him to the other side until the Sheriff’s words ring in her ears and make her hate herself even more. Other times she’s sure he’s alive and somehow that feels worse because he’s out there somewhere, clearly hurt and in grave danger, and there’s no way for her to help him.

She doesn’t sleep. 

She barely eats. 

All she does is miss him.

The doorbell rings in the middle of an afternoon after an indistinguishable number of days spent alone in that house. Lydia barely notices the noise, staying rooted where she sits on the living room floor watching the rain bead and trickle down the patio doors with her forehead pressed against the cool glass. A few minutes pass before there’s pounding on the door instead and her eyes drift shut against the harsh noise. A sharp snap echoes through out the house a minute later and Lydia hears footsteps moving closer from across the marble floors.

Idly she lifts her gaze when Peter steps into the room with a door knob hanging off his finger, too numb to form a reaction to his unexpected visit.

For a moment he actually hesitates, something akin to pity coloring his gaze as he takes her in, though he of course shakes it off and smirks at her after only a few seconds. Calm and calculated, his eyes sparkle down at her as he begins to pontificate, launching into an offer to make it all go away.

There must be a million ulterior motives hidden beneath the surface but Lydia can’t find it in her to care about any of them. In that moment, all she can think about is how nice it sounds to be able to forget it all for awhile and how badly she wants to go back to before she knew all of these supernatural things existed, when she felt like she was in control, when she had no idea just how much her heart could break.

Peter’s barely finished explaining it to her when she nods, her eyes trailing back to the rain hitting the window as she remembers how the rain would always make Stiles’s hair fall into his amber eyes. 

“Okay.”

 

———

 

Stiles is there when she wakes up this time. He’s the first thing she sees when her eyes slowly flutter open, gripping her hand in both of his while tears slip down his cheeks. “Hey Lyds,” he whispers when her eyes find his, his stitched up bottom lip quivering as he tries to smile for her.

Relief swells in her chest so fast at the sight of him that it nearly chokes her, leaving her gasping as her vision swims. _“Stiles.”_

He shudders at the sound of her strained voice and his whole body jolts forward, moving into the small space on the bed next to her without even thinking. He curls on his side against her with an arm around her waist and his face buried against her hair, his whole body shaking.

She closes her eyes as she lets the feeling of him all around her soak in and tries to reassure herself he’s really there. Limbs heavy and aching, she reaches up and wraps her fingers around his wrist, hazily noticing the IV in her skin and the monitor on her finger when they gently tug at the movement.

“I love you,” he vows tearfully against her ear, a complete wreck after almost losing her yet again. “You remember, right? You remember how much I love you?”

Nodding gingerly, she turns and presses her forehead against his, a shaky breath falling sharply from her lips when her eyes catch on the faint bruises around his neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers when he senses her panicking. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She remembers assuring him the same thing after he’d gotten his memories of her back but now she understands why he didn’t believe her. Now she knows how fragile their lives have always been. She remembers how all the fear and pain never really stops. She knows now that nothing will ever really be okay.

“The doctor said there’s no permanent damage. Deaton doesn’t think there is anything to worry about from the supernatural side of things. You’re going to be fine,” Sties explains as if to reassure her but the quiver in his voice makes her realize he’s actually trying to reassure himself.

Her grip tightens around his wrist, calming him and grounding herself in the feel of his skin and the rhythm of his pulse under her fingertips. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine now that you’re awake,” he answers, his voice thick and rough. “You— You were screaming for me, weren’t you? For my death?”

She presses her lips together, nodding when words fail her.

“Deaton said that’s why this all happened. Why you can remember, why you were hurt… Because you were screaming for your anchor. Our tether pulled your memories back.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up sadly. “It must be pretty strong to do all that.”

“It always has been.” He kisses her hair and runs his palm along her spine. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She slowly nods against him, feeling whatever drugs are coursing through her veins already pulling her back under even though all she wants to do is stay awake with him. Burrowing against his chest, she inhales the achingly familiar scent of his t-shirt.

"I love you. I loved you even when I didn’t remember…”

“I know. You still don’t have to tell me, Lydia, I know.”

Tears cloud her vision and she closes her eyes to keep them at bay, clutching the front of his shirt in her fist. For a few moments, Stiles just holds her and slowly rubs her back, and as the tension eases in her body, she can feel herself helplessly starting to drift off. 

“Promise you’ll stay?” she mumbles timidly, ashamed at how badly she needs to hear him say it.

“Of course. I’m never leaving you again.”

It’s ridiculous how everything feels a little bit better with those words but for a moment it does. Before she has a chance to pick them apart in her head, for a moment she can breathe easily with his arms tight around her and his words bandaging her heart. Only then can she let herself give in to sleep once again.

 

———

 

Getting her memories back isn’t at all how Lydia had hypothesized it would be. She’d always imagined remembering her past would be like having an overwhelming and unsurmountable amount of information dropped in her lap that she’d have to sift through and try to somehow make sense of. In reality though it’s like the memories were never gone in the first place. The pieces of her fall into place as if she never lost them.

Instead what overwhelms her isn’t understanding her memories but rather the totality of them all crushing down on her, the time she spent lost and alone on the other side of the country combined with the years she spent struggling to survive in Beacon Hills, all of it too tangible and real. That’s when her heart hurts so much she’s not sure she’ll be able to take another breath.

Stiles squeezes her hand, grounding her like he always. “Hey,” he whispers when he notices her getting so lost in her thoughts. “You still here with me?”

“Mmhm,” she hums distractedly, snapping back quickly to the present. She knows Stiles sees right through her like he always does so she diverts his attention to another topic. “You didn’t tell me how Scott is. Did he find Isaac?”

“They’re both totally fine. Scott and Kira went to the preserve this morning to make sure there isn’t anything we missed. Malia and Derek are going with Isaac to France to look for the real Argent. Everyone’s fine. Just worry about yourself now, okay?”

She nods but it’s a struggle to push aside the gnawing fear in the that’s constantly in the back of her mind now that she remembers how everything can change in an instant.

“So I, uh, called your mom and let her know you’re in here,” Stiles speaks up hesitantly after a beat, eyeing her carefully.

Dropping her gaze, she lets out a humorless laugh. “She must have been shocked her to hear from you.”

“Only slightly.” He smirks and shrugs. “She said she’s going to come home to see you.”

“Did you tell her I remember everything?”

“Well, yeah—“

“Then she’s not coming.”

Her tone is so uncharacteristically defeated, edged with something deeper, that it makes his heart ache for her and his mind fill with a million questions. He opens his mouth to ask her what she means but a knock on the door stops him before he gets the chance.

Kira walks in with a shy smile, Scott trailing hesitantly behind her.

“Hi Lydia,” Kira greets her shyly, quickly stepping forward to hug her. “I’m so glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Lydia answers quietly, feeling a bit strange as she hugs one of her oldest friends with her memories now fresh in her mind.

Kira pulls back and Lydia’s eyes instantly find Scott, who seems almost nervous with his big brown eyes shining down on her. Her heart breaks at the sight of her alpha.

_“Scott.”_

Wordlessly Scott steps forward and sits on the bed next to her, carefully pulling her into a warm embrace and holding her tight.

Too many emotions flood her as she wraps her arms around him. All she can think of is the months that Stiles was missing for the second time and it was her and Scott trying everything to find him, both of them completely broken without the spastic human and totally dependent on each other just to get through the day. Her tears spill over at the sudden rush of guilt that overwhelms her, hating herself for leaving him all by himself right when they needed each other the most.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Scott immediately assures her, somehow knowing exactly what she means. “You found your way back. That’s all that matters.”

Sniffling she pulls back, trying to smile for sweet, sweet Scott who is always only concerned about everyone else.

The bed shifts and she feels Stiles’s arm wrap around her shoulders and when she looks over at him, he’s sitting so close with his amber eyes full as he looks between his girlfriend and his best friend. Something passes between the three of them, an understanding of all that they’ve been through together.

“You’re going to be okay?”

Lydia nods at Scott, pressing her lips together as Stiles kisses her hair. “I’ll be fine.”

 

———

 

Lydia braces a hand against Stiles’s arm as she pulls on her sweatpants, swaying slightly in the middle of the small hospital room.

“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” Stiles reaches out and holds her steady once she straightens herself to stand. “Maybe you should stay another night-“

“I’m fine,” she cuts him off and lets out a slow breath, leaning into him. “I just want to go home.”

He nods and sinks his hand into the back of her hair. “Okay, I’ll get you home.”

She lets him lead her back to the bed and help her sit down, rolling her eyes when he pulls her shoes out of her bag and sinks down in front of her. “Stiles, I’m pretty sure I’m capable of putting on my own shoes.”

“I know, just… Humor me, please.”

Sighing, she shakes her head at him fondly, keeping quiet as she lets him carefully fit her shoes on to her sock-clad feet and slowly lace them up. Once he’s finished, his whole body seems to deflate, his shoulders sagging like he’s got the weight of the world bearing down on him. He leans forward and rests his forehead against her knee, his hands running idly along the back of her calves.

Lydia runs her fingers through his hair, her heart sinking when she hears his breath shaking in the stillness of the room.

“I thought this was it. I didn’t think I’d get to take you out of here again,” he admits, lifting his watery gaze to hers. “I thought you weren’t going to make it this time.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up into a sad smile. “I thought the same thing about you.”

“Never again, okay? I can’t see you in here again.”

Lydia bites her lip and falls silent, sadness swelling in her chest at the devastation in his amber eyes. She wishes she could say something to make that look disappear but she knows it would be all lies. With the way their lives work, they’ll be right back here again sooner or later no matter what promises they make now.

 

———

 

They decide to stay at Lydia’s house after she’s released, wanting to nothing more than to have some time just the two of them. The house is quiet and cold when they walk in and Stiles follows her wordlessly through the house with his hand on the small of her back and a duffle bag full of his clothes slung over his shoulder.

She hesitates outside her bedroom, looking inside with fresh eyes and years of memories at the forefront of her mind. Carefully, she steps into the room and walks around the perimeter, taking it all in.

They haven’t stayed there at all since Stiles got his memories back but now he notices all the things that are clearly missing. He remembers the pictures of Lydia and Allison that had been stuck to her vanity mirror and the picture of himself and Lydia on her bedside table along with a handful of candids of her with Kira and Malia. The room seems too empty without them, no evidence of Lydia and her life anywhere to be found. He wonders if she removed them or if it was someone else but from the haunted look in her eyes it seems that she’s just as stricken by it as he is.

She pads hesitantly across the room to her bathroom and pauses in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame.

“Lydia?”

Turning around, she wearily finds his gaze. “Did Scott tell you what happened? When I thought you were dead?”

Stiles slowly crosses the room to stand before her. “He said you were in the hospital. That you would have died if your mother hadn’t found you. He wasn’t exactly sure of all the details though.”

“I tried to do the ritual you did junior year to find your dad.” Her eyes are glassy as she reaches out and fidgets with the front of his plaid shirt, her voice quiet and raspy. “I stole mistletoe from Deaton and filled my tub with ice water but I couldn’t stay under. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fight the instinct to push to the surface at the last second. The only way I could was with my mother’s sleeping pills. I tried to only take enough to dull my reflexes, I even did the calculations in my head but I was such a mess that I made a mistake. I needed to find you so badly that I couldn’t focus on anything—”

“ _Jesus, Lydia._ That’s is so unbelievably—“

“I know,” she exhales, pressing her lips together. “I guess I went a bit out of my mind.”

The corner of his lips turns up at her sadly, knowing deep down that he would have done whatever it took to try to find her too. He drops his gaze to her fingers on his chest and covers them with his own.

“That ritual… That was how my heart stopped. The people that took me, they thought it would open the door to my mind like it had before. Without you there to pull me back though, all it did was drown me. I thought that was it, you know?”

“But they revived you,” she concludes quietly, sliding her hands up his chest to gently cup his face. “How long were you gone?”

“Seven months. Braeden and Derek found me. They broke me out.”

She closes her eyes and drops her chin to her chest, feeling absolutely sick at all the awful things they could have done to him in so much time and feeling so, so guilty for not being there for him when he got out.

“Come here,” he whispers, wrapping her up and pulling her against him into a steady hug. He holds her close as they gently sway in the middle of the room.

 

———

 

They spend days hiding away together, barely spending a moment apart while Lydia rests and recovers, trying to get rid of the near constant ache pounding dully at the side of her head. They curl up on the couch and spend hours watching too many movies, continuing the book they’ve been reading together, and talking to each other until they drift off.

Stiles didn’t think it was possible for them to be any closer than they were in those few weeks they had together at the end of senior year after he’d escaped the ghost riders and before he was taken again. Over the last few days though he finds himself somehow growing impossibly closer to her until he knows he’s never been so in tune and connected to anyone in his life like he is to Lydia now.

He nuzzles his nose against her hair, both of them drifting off as the late afternoon sun pours over them through the living room window when a knock on the front door interrupts their quiet afternoon. 

Stiles groans at the noise and buries his face deeper against Lydia’s hair.

Yawning, she nudges his shoulder. “Go answer the door.”

“Noooo,” he whines indignantly. “It’s your house, you get the door.”

She pouts out her bottom lip at him. “But I’m still recovering.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes but still sits up. “Fiiiiine.” Begrudgingly he pushes off the couch and begins to shuffle away but Lydia reaches out and grabs his hand before he gets too far.

“I guess if you’re going to whine about it I’ll just come with you.” 

She lets him pull her off the couch, smiling up at him when he intertwines his fingers with hers. They pad through the house in their socks to the foyer, opening the door to reveal the Sheriff standing there in his street clothes.

“Hey Dad,” Stiles greets him in surprise, grinning sleepily at his father.

“Stiles,” the Sheriff greets him with a nod before hesitantly turning to Lydia with his weary eyes full. “Hi Lydia.”

Lydia grips Stiles hand tighter, her heart thumping at the memories that rush over her. “Hi Sheriff.”

The corner of his mouth turns up at her softly. “You know you can call me Noah.”

She attempts a smile back before pressing her lips together as she nods.

Stiles senses something is off and shoots her an odd look before stepping back. “Well come in. What’s up?”

The sheriff flashes him a weak smile as he slowly walks past them into the house, nervously wringing his hands. “Actually I was hoping I could speak to Lydia for a minute. Alone.”

Curiously furrowing his brow, Stiles looks between two of the most important people in his life, trying and failing to read the situation, before he reluctantly nods. “Yeah, sure. I can, uh, go figure out what to make for dinner.” He presses his lips to Lydia’s knuckles before letting her go.

As soon as they’re alone, Lydia hesitantly leads the Sheriff further into the house until they are both settling on the living room couch in the heavy silence between them. 

“Lydia, I…” he softly starts before trailing off and sighing to himself regretfully. “I want to apologize. The things I said to you that day—“

“It’s okay,” Lydia cuts in, barely above a whisper. “Everything you said was right.”

“No it wasn’t. And it doesn’t matter either way. I never should have spoken to you like that.” The sheriff drops his gaze to his hands. “All the years you’ve been gone, I’ve wondered how different things would have been if I’d just been there for you. Maybe you wouldn’t have left. Maybe you never would have erased your memories—“

“None of that is your fault. I made those decisions on my own. I was a mess when I thought I’d lost Stiles forever. I wasn’t thinking clearly about anything.”

“Which is exactly why I should have been looking out for you,” the sheriff repeats, his weary eyes growing wet. “That’s what Stiles would have wanted.”

Lydia presses her lips together, feeling a familiar wave of familial love wash over her for the man in front of her. Carefully she reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Oh, kiddo,” the sheriff whispers letting go of her hand to pull her into a hug instead. “It’s good to have you back.”

Stiles hesitantly peeks into the room, freezing when he sees the two of them slowly pulling out of a hug, his heart swelling at the sight. “Everything okay?”

Lydia nods, her eyes bright. “We’re fine.”

The sheriff smiles down at her warmly and pats her shoulder as he stands up. Turning to his son, he grins and digs his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to stop by and see how Lydia is doing. I’ll let you guys get back to your day.”

“Wait,” she calls out before he can walk away, her green eyes soft. “You don’t have to leave so fast. Stay and have dinner with us.”

The sheriff hesitates, eyeing her carefully. “You’re sure?”

Lydia smiles up at him. “Of course.”

“Yeah, Dad, you should stay,” Stiles speaks up, his eyes full of warmth. “It’s been awhile since we had a Stilinski family dinner night.”

Lydia can’t help the way her smile grows at the implication behind his words, like she’s already part of their family.

“Well how can I turn that down,” the sheriff grins. “Just let me just go wash up quick.”

Stiles crosses the room to Lydia’s side, barely waiting for his Dad to get out of earshot before asking, “What did he want to talk about?”

“Things from a long time ago,” Lydia shrugs to brush it off. Reaching up, she wraps her arms his neck and leans into him. “Your dad is a really good man. I see where you get it from.”

 

———

 

Lydia’s side of the bed is empty when Stiles wakes up to the early morning sun peaking through the blinds. It sends a jolt of panic through him, worry building helplessly in the pit of his stomach before he can even think.

“Lyds?” he calls out, suddenly wide awake as he pushes himself out of bed. Quickly he strides across her bedroom in nothing but his Mets boxers, running his hand through his hair as he steps into the hallway. “Lydia?”

“Down here!”

Her lilting reply fills him with relief and he lets out a shaky breath as he follows her voice downstairs and into the kitchen. The sight of her makes him pause though, swallowing roughly as he finds her hovering over the coffee maker in one of his flannels, the oversized material swallowing her up and falling halfway down the back her bare thighs.

“Morning,” her calls out, his breath hitching when she turns around to smile softly at him and he sees the front of the flannel wide open, exposing her heather grey bra and panties and the taut skin of her stomach. He clears his throat to refocus himself, forcing himself to hone in instead on the bag of coffee grounds in her hands. “Don’t tell me Lydia Martin is actually going to drink plain old, black coffee?”

She rolls her eyes at him, suppressing a grin. “What can I say, I need the caffeine. We both do actually, otherwise we’re going to end up taking a dozen naps again today.”

“Half dozen,” he corrects, crossing the room to her side. “We could go to the coffee shop, you know? Get you your unbelievably picky drink that you love…”

Shaking her head, she sets aside the coffee beans on the counter and turns to look up at him. “I think we could use one more day of staying in our pajamas.”

“I think I can get on board with that.” Grinning, he slips his hands inside the flannel, his fingers settling on the soft skin of her waist.

Moving closer to him, she smirks and reaches up to sink her fingers into the hair on the back of his neck, her breath warm against his bare chest. Instantly the air in the room feels thicker, familiar tension forming between the two of them and burning everywhere their touching skin to skin. It’s happened so many times since he brought her home from the hospital, but Stiles had held back every other time, too concerned with her recovery to push things. This morning though she seems different, her eyes a little brighter and her cheeks full of color.

“You’re feeling better?” he asks quietly, skimming his fingers up her side and over her chest carefully until he slips them up around her jaw to cradle her face.

“Much.” She leans into his touch. “I think my headache is finally gone.”

“That’s great,” he sighs in relief, feeling the tension in his body lessen at the news. “Really great.”

“Mhmm,” she hums and presses herself even closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaving them skin to skin with barely anything between them.

With a shaky breath he leans into her, his forehead against her hair and his lips lingering against the apple of her cheek. “Lyds.”

It only takes a slight turn of her head for her lips to find his, kissing him so soft and tentative it makes him ache. His hands find her waist again, gripping against her skin before sliding back and splaying across her back.

Her kisses become more sure, open-mouthed and insistent as the familiar needy feeling builds within her, realizing how much she missed this all these year without even knowing it was gone.

His lips meet her in kind, groaning at the sensation of Lydia overwhelming his senses. Dragging his mouth across her skin, he kisses his way down her throat, pulling at the collar of the flannel to expose the supple part of her body where her neck becomes her shoulder and focusing on the warm skin there.

Lydia’s fingers tighten in the back of his hair and tug gently, punctuated by a quiet, breathy moan that sends him over the edge.

“Maybe, uh— Maybe we should head back to bed?” he mumbles against her skin between kisses.

Impatiently she shakes her head against him. “Couch. Now.”

He smirks and pulls back, fully intent on teasing her, but can’t find it in him to do anything but lean right back in to kiss her again because he feels just as desperate as her. In a tangle of limbs they make their way the short distance from the kitchen to the living room, stumbling over furniture and bumping into walls. Once they reach their destination, he lays her back and follows right after her, lips on hers as he moves over her and drags her up the cushions with him.

Again his lips wander over her, teasing and tasting her skin greedily and reminding himself of all the little details of her he’d forgotten.

Lydia does some exploration of her own, her hands leaving his hair to move across his body, her fingers pressing and pulling against him everywhere she can reach. It’s overwhelming to have him like this again with memories of times years and years ago now at the forefront of her mind. Her breath becomes shaky, panting as she tries to hold herself together.

Suddenly she sniffles and Stiles freezes, pulling his lips from just below her belly button and lifting his gaze to meet hers. He finds her green irises swimming and his heart clenches. Immediately he moves back up her body, hovering over her and studying her with soft eyes. “Hey…”

“I’m fine,” she whispers back urgently, willing herself to calm down but her voice trembles and betrays her completely. She closes her eyes and tries to take a deep breath to steady herself.

Brow furrowing, Stiles takes one of her hands and kisses his way across her knuckles to try to steady her, though he can’t help but notices the way her fingers tremble in his grasp. “You’re shaking,” he observes quietly, his heart aching. “What’s wrong?”

Opening her eyes again she looks up at him before just barely shaking her head at him. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I just… I’m being ridiculous.”

“Talk to me,” he gently urges, setting aside her hand so he can cup her cheek and run his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Ridiculous or not, you can tell me.”

For a moment she just watches him, eyes moving between his as her mind races. Then suddenly she rasps out, her voice breaking quietly, “There were other guys.”

Stiles swallows roughly, completely thrown off and overwhelmed at the absolute heartbreak in her voice. “It’s okay, Lyds… I was with other girls. It’s— It’s okay.”

Lydia shakes her head fiercely, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and slipping back into her hair. “I remember the first time, afterwards, when we were laying in your bed. We talked for hours because we were trying to stay awake incase your dad came home.” She takes a sharp, shaky breath, her bottom lip trembling. “I remember realizing this was it. I knew I didn’t want anyone else _ever—_ “

_“Lyds—“_

“I was so lonely, Stiles,” she confesses in a rush, turning frantic and desperate under him. “I screamed in the middle of campus my second year and everyone thought I was crazy. Barely anyone would talk to me outside of classes after that. Not unless they were hitting on me, anyway.”

Regret floods him, hating himself for his part in her pain. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I wish I could go back to that day in Boston and tell you everything. But all of that is over now. You’re back with me where you belong.”

“After six years,” she argues back, heartbroken at the immensity of it all. “We lost _six years_ with each other.”

“And now we have the rest of our lives together,” he tries to remind her, hating seeing her so broken and dejected when she’s always been the strong one.

“The rest of our lives? Stiles, we’re not even going to make it to 30.”

He sits back on his heels between her parted legs, staring down at her in disbelief. “You can’t really think that way—“

“It’s the truth.”

“Like in a banshee way or…?“

“In a logical way. You’re the one who was always freaking out about everything supernatural. How can you think we’re going to be okay?”

“Because it’s us!” he answers powerfully, splaying his hands across her knees because he needs to touch her. “Don’t get me wrong, I worry constantly. I’m always worrying about you, and my dad, and Scott… But I will fight _like hell_ for us to make it.”

His words echo in the silence of the house, lingering in the air as Lydia lets them sink in. Something about his determination and his absolute refusal to ever give up makes her instantly steadier, the same way he’s always able to steady her. Eyes suddenly clear once again, she pushes herself up to sit in front of him, her gaze turning bright again as she studies him. Thoughtfully she reaches out and touches his jaw with something akin to reverence.

“I’ll fight like hell for us, too.”

He barely has a chance to let out a shaky, low breath before she’s kissing him again, every touch of her lips and her hands sure and committed.

They sink back onto the couch again, his hands sliding up her thighs and her fingers curling in his hair. The mood between them is different, the frenzied desperation they’d been filled with before falling away to something gentle and unhurried yet infinitely more intense. Stiles pushes into her and moves over her carefully and steadily with her bra pulled down and his flannel still around her shoulders, their eyes constantly searching each other’s gaze.

He thinks then too of the first time, a little over six years ago in his childhood bedroom, when he swears he felt the connection between them shifting and growing into something real and tangible and permanent. He can feel the same thing now, the world around them falling away as their connection becomes all encompassing and overwhelming. Somehow it feels like more this time though, a new level of interdependence and absolute devotion forging between them after all the things they’ve somehow managed to survive and endure; after they managed to find each other again like always.

Lydia quivers under him, over and over, gasping for breath as her nails bite into the sweaty skin of his shoulders and her heels dig against his lower back.

Stiles buries his face into the crook of her neck, panting her name against her skin as his whole body shudders.

Combing her fingers languidly through his unruly hair, she presses her lips to the side of his face as he eases himself down and relaxes over her, trying to catch his breath.

“Forever,” she whispers against his skin, “I’m going to find a way for us to be together forever.”

His heart tugs at her words and he lifts his head to gaze at her, his eyes half lidded and pupils blown. “We will be,” he assures her, languidly trailing his fingers across her skin. “We’ll be side by side until we’re old and gray.”

For a moment she hesitates and Stiles isn’t sure what to make of the sudden intensity that flashes in her forest green eyes, but then she’s kissing him again and the moment slips away from him.

She pulls back and gently pushes at his shoulders. “Move over so we can cuddle.”

He chuckles in amusement at her abrupt request, though he immediately acquiesces. “You know, nobody would ever believe me if I told them you’re the more snuggly one in this relationship.”

“That’s because it’s definitely not true and you know it.” She turns onto her side so that they are facing on the tiny space of the couch and fits herself against his chest. “This is a much more comfortable position to fall asleep in.”

“I thought you said no naps today,” he teases her in a whisper, realizing just how exhausted he is as well as soon as she mentions sleep.

She nuzzles closer and breathes him in. “It can’t be a nap if we haven’t even had breakfast yet. This is just us extending our sleep from last night.”

He smirks against her hair, letting his eyes fall closed as he focuses on the gentle thrum of her heart. “Whatever you say, Lyds.”

 

———

 

Real life catches up with them much faster than either of them want it to. Stiles can’t put off his return to work any longer and he knows Lydia needs to get back to work on her thesis as soon as possible.

The morning of their reluctant return to reality, they get up early and go to the coffee shop together, trying to return to the pattern they had found before everything got so crazy. Neither of them are very talkative as they walk hand in hand through the neighborhood and sit together at a table tucked away in the corner, but they keep as close as they can while they seconds tick by.

Lydia sends him off to work with a gentle kiss and a wan smile, her green eyes uneasy.

“Love you,” he murmurs as he backs away toward the Jeep.

The corner of her lips turn up at him. “I love you, too.”

He waves at her as he drives away and watches her lingering on the curb from his rearview mirror until he’s too far away to see her any more. There’s an anxious feeling in his chest at leaving her for the first time since she was hurt but logically he knows it had to happen at some point, though he has to keep reminding himself that it’s only for eight hours.

When he returns to the station he finds his evidence board still tucked against the side of his desk. Carefully he steps up to it, examining the pieces connected by red string, the pictures of the victims and of the various crime scenes at the Nemeton, all intermixed with pages and pages of details that proved to be useless. 

He knows the connection between all of it now. The case is solved.

But as his eyes linger on the picture of the young boy, he remembers in excruciating detail telling the mother and father about his death. He can’t erase the way they absolutely shattered right in front of him, refusing to believe him at first and then screaming at him to find whoever killed their son. Now he knows he’ll never be able to tell them what really happened to the boy. He’ll never be able to give them any closure. To them, their son will become an unsolved case, a mystery they’ll likely be haunted by for the rest of their lives.

Leaning heavily against the edge of his desk, he suddenly feels sick with guilt. It’s his job to give them the answers they deserve and he’ll never to able to do it.

“Hey son.”

A hand grips his shoulder and he jumps in surprise, turning sharply to his father standing at his side.

“Welcome back,” the sheriff says, his brow furrowing with concern the longer he appraises his son. Curiously he trails his eyes to where his son had been so focused, his smile slipping off his face at the evidence board looming ahead of them. He squeezes Stiles’s shoulder and lets out a long sigh. “You doing okay?”

Stiles shakes his head gingerly, swallowing roughly to keep himself in check. “None of the people in their lives will ever know what happened to them. I’ll never be able to tell them anything.”

The sheriff solemnly shakes his head at his son. “No, you won’t.”

Dropping his chin to his chest, Stiles lets out a shaky breath.

“But you helped save other people from dying, Stiles. The bad guy isn’t out there anymore, he’s gone. You did your job.”

“I didn’t-“

“You did,” the sheriff cuts in firmly. “You, Lydia, and Scott. You got rid of the Nogitsue. Now all there is to do is start on to the next case.”

Stiles tightens his jaw, teeming with rage and ready to go off when he looks up at his father and pauses. He sees the understanding in his dad’s eyes and it suddenly hits Stiles how many times supernatural cases have happened under his father’s jurisdiction.

“How do you do it? How do you just move on?”

“Eventually you’ll believe that you did all the you could. Because you did,” the sheriff explains gently. “I’m not going to lie to you and say the rest of it isn’t hard. It’s extremely hard. But you get used to it.”

Stiles softly nods in understanding before dropping his gaze.

“You did good, son.”

He tries to smile when his dad pats his shoulder but he knows it falls horribly short. It doesn’t matter though because his father simply understands, nodding at him before he heads back to his office.

Sighing, he bites his lip and lets his eyes scan the board one last time, trying to make peace with everything that’s happened and what he has to do now. Finally he steps up to the board and sets to work on pulling off every photo and document and carefully filing them away.

Eventually the board is deceptively empty before him, a couple stray red strings hanging limply over the edges, and he feels so wholly unsteady and unsure.

Impulsively he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, quickly tapping out a simple message to Lydia.

_Is it too soon to admit I miss you?_

Her reply comes back within the minute, his phone vibrating in his hand.

_Only if it’s too soon for me to admit I miss you too — Come home on your lunch and visit me?_

A small smile curls his lips and he immediately texts her back in agreement. Then he rounds his desk and settles down, finding it within himself to lock away his current file and pull out the next one to work on.

 

———

 

It doesn’t take long for them to fall into a routine.

Every morning they walk to the coffee shop before Stiles goes off to work and Lydia closes herself up in the study. Every afternoon he comes home and has lunch with her, sometimes even bringing his father along with him. Every evening she’s waiting for him on the front steps, flipping through a book in the fading sunlight when the Jeep pulls up. From that moment on they’re inseparable; they cook dinner together, they idle away the hours together, and then they sink into bed together.

Stiles loves having his daily life so intertwined with hers. It’s the life he always dreamed of during all the years he’d harbored a crush on her but it’s so much more than that. Every bit of it is real.

There are some things that seem off though, little things that catch his attention and make him helplessly anxious. He knows Lydia well enough that even the slightest change in her stands out glaringly so when she grows a bit quieter and gets lost in her thoughts all too often, he notices. He sees how tired she always is yet he wakes up in the middle of the night too many times to her lying awake and tense in his arms.

He holds her close and kisses the back of her neck before nuzzling his nose against her warm skin and thick hair. “Y’okay? Have a nightmare?”

“I’m okay,” she offers him as her only answer before nuzzling into the crook of his elbow and twining her fingers lazily with his. “Go back to sleep.”

“Take your own advice, Lyds,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

He feels her lips curl up into a small smile against his arm and he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes at him in the darkness of the room. Fending off sleep, he smoothes his fingers along her side, moving them gingerly back and forth, slower and slower as the seconds tick by. 

She relaxes against him eventually, her breath becoming slow and measured. That’s when he lets himself drift off again, falling asleep as she whispers to him words he can’t quite make out.

 

———

 

“I started looking for jobs in Boston.”

Lydia looks up from the vegetables she’s chopping in surprise, her green eyes snapping to his amber ones from across the kitchen. “You did?”

He nods as he adds a pinch of salt to the sauce simmering on the stove. “I didn’t find much in the city but there were a few openings in the suburbs that could work. I was thinking I could commute for awhile until I found something closer to campus.”

She drops her gaze back to the cutting board, idly resuming her chopping. A beat passes before she speaks up again, her voice suddenly all light and breezy in a way that makes him pause. “You know, you don’t have to find something yet.”

Stiles raises a skeptical brow at her. “I don’t?”

She shakes her head but keeps her gaze decidedly fixed on her task. “I have more research to do than I realized. It might be a good idea to delay going back for a little while longer.”

“But I thought the semester is starting in just a couple weeks—”

“It is but I have a lot more work I need to do first. I’m still on indefinite leave so I can always extend it if I need to,” she explains, her tone edging brittle and tight. Setting aside the knife, she quickly adds the chopped veggies to the large salad bowl at her side. “Salad’s ready. How is the sauce coming?”

“Almost done,” he answers offhandedly, more caught up in watching het as she moves around the kitchen to clean up the counter.

“Well, I’m going to go grab a sweater quick then. It’s kind of chilly in here.”

“Okay, sounds good…” Stiles trails off as he watches her stalk out of the room with her strawberry blonde hair swaying behind her, effectively ending the conversation before it can continue. He sighs to himself and flips off the burner, a gnawing thought at the back of his mind telling him something more is definitely going on.

 

———

 

Stiles can’t stop his mind from going through a million possibilities as to why it seems Lydia doesn’t want to go back to Boston. What bothers him the most though is that she’s trying to hide it and when he combines that with all the things he’s noticed going on with her lately, the only conclusion he can seem to come to is that it must be because of something big. 

After that it feels like he doesn’t have any other choice but to check in on things for himself. 

So early the next morning while Lydia is in the shower, he sneaks soundlessly into the study, swallowing his guilt as he steps up to the large mahogany desk. Numerous books and papers are spread all across the surface in organized chaos, color coated in piles with post it notes jutting out at random intervals. He reaches out curiously to flip through one of the large bound books but as soon as his fingers touch the cover his nose scrunches up at the unexpected grimy texture. After a closer look at all the various materials he realizes it’s on everything; a thin layer of dust as indisputable evidence that Lydia hasn’t touched her work in weeks, probably even since before he got back his own memories back.

His stomach drops and he sets the book aside, worry swirling in his stomach as he leans heavily against the desk and tries to make some sense of it all.

“Stiles?”

He lifts his head when he hears her calling out to him, sighing to himself before giving in and calling back to her. “In here!”

He can hear her slowly approach the study, hesitantly stepping into the doorway with her eyes already wide and shining. 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

She presses her lips together and crosses her arms, hugging herself as she remains silent.

“What have you been doing all day?” he continues, his eyes pleading with her to say something. “Because I thought you were working on your thesis, which if I’m not mistaken, you completely lied right to my face about last night, saying you needed more time to research—“

“I didn’t lie,” she cuts in shakily. “Not technically. I do need more time for research.”

Stiles gapes at her incredulously. “Lydia, you clearly haven’t touched any of this in weeks.”

“Well maybe it isn’t for this!”

His gaze narrows. “Then what have you been researching?” 

She opens her mouth to answer but falls silent again instead, dropping her gaze mournfully. 

Immediately he rounds the desk and crosses the room to her. “Lydia, I’m on your side, whatever it is. We figure things out together, remember?”

She chews her lip anxiously and looks up at him, silently contemplating her next move. Eventually she gives in and nods, turning on her heel and beckoning for him to follow. “Come on.”

His anxiety rises as he follows her through the house to a small sitting room in the back, one he’s never been in before that looks out at the pool. Kneeling on the ground, she carefully pulls her laptop out from under the couch, clearly having hid it there so he wouldn’t find it. She sets it on the coffee table and powers it up, sitting down on the couch as Stiles settles nervously next to her, his nerves quickly morphing to fear with every tense second that passes. After a few clicks, she pivots the screen toward him with a document pulled already up on the screen.

He scans it quickly, catching on the words like druid, darachs, and redwoods that make his skin crawl. “What the hell is this?”

“Research,” she explains softly, focused on the screen to avoid his gaze, “on the Nemeton.”

He gapes at her dumbly, waiting for her to fill in the rest of the blanks.

“…I’ve been trying to find a way to destroy it.” 

He scoffs at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“That tree wasn’t always evil. Someone made it that way, and if there was a way to do it then there has to be a way to undo it.”

Stiles’s jaw tightens, suddenly absolutely seething. “You can’t just mess with the Nemeton, Lydia, you’re just going to get hurt again. It will kill you!”

“Well, I can’t just live my life like this either! All I can think about is what is going to happen next. I’m terrified to do anything because I don’t know what supernatural killer is going to come after us next because that thing gave it power!” She takes a trembling breath and reaches out to take his hand. “One day the Nemeton is going to ruin us, Stiles. Not when we’re old and gray. _Soon._ And when it does, we’re not going to get another chance like this. It’s going to _kill us._ We’ll never make it this way. I want more time with you.”

“I want that too, you know I do. But I’m not risking the time we have for that.”

“We have to,” she argues vehemently, begging him to see her reasoning. “Think of all the people that have been killed because of the Nemeton’s power. Before Jennifer, before the sacrifices, it wasn’t like this.”

“I don’t care—“

“You’re the one who said it was our responsibility!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you put yourself in danger to fix it!”

She glares at him fiercely. “Why do you keep saying I’m putting myself in danger? I haven’t even told you what I found—“

“Because that’s how these things always work!” he bellows back, completely snapping. “You’re not the only one who is always thinking about this stuff! At least I’m trying to figure out how to avoid it, not running straight into it!”

“I’m sick of trying to avoid it! I don’t want to have to do that for the rest of our lives, Stiles. I can’t! We need to go on offense for once instead of always playing defense, waiting for these things to come to us.”

Both of them fall into a silent standoff, breathing hard as her words hang in the air between them.

Stiles breaks first, slowly shaking his head at her. “I’m sorry, Lyds. I understand, I really do, but I’m not okay with this.”

Devastation flashes in her eyes before she hides it away and narrows her gaze on him instead. “Fine,” she snaps, reaching out and slamming her laptop closed. “I’ll do it on my own then.”

Stiles groans in frustration as he watches her heave up the computer in her arms and stomp out of the room. “Lydia, come on.” He pushes himself off the couch and follows behind her through the house, watching in helpless annoyance as she drops the laptop in a tote bag and swings it over her shoulder before heading for the door. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” she bites, not sparring him another glance before she stomps straight out the front door.

Hands on his hips, he huffs in exasperation, anxiously chewing his lip as the sound of her heels on the steps outside fades away.

He swears to himself he’s not going to follow her. Assures himself that he’s the one in the right— _she_ should come back to _him_.

A minute passes and he starts pacing. 

Another minute and he runs out the door.

“Lydia!” he calls out as he rushes down the front steps and then sprints down the sidewalk after her. “Lyds, wait!” he huffs for breath once he catches up with her, coming to a stop in front of her and forcing her to stop too. “Hey—“

He falls abruptly silent when he sees the tears on her cheeks and her full bottom lip trembling. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Stiles. _I can’t._ ”

He wraps her up in a secure embrace without even a second of hesitation and she melts into him, burrowing against his chest and crying harder as she grips him tight.

“I just want it to stop,” she cries against his flannel. “Please… I can’t spend the rest of my life like this.”

His heart breaks for her as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I felt your heart stop… I screamed for your death. It’s all I can think about. I can barely function unless you’re right there with me because I’m _so scared_ something is going to happen that will take you away again.” She digs her fingers into the back of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m always so scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” he admits quietly, her words hitting him hard. He buries his cheek against her hair, swallowing roughly. “Maybe… Maybe you’re right.”

Hesitantly she pulls back and looks up at him with messy tears smearing her skin.

“I want decades with you.” A sad smile quirks the corner of his lips. “It’s hard to see that happening the way things are.”

She sniffles and nods desperately. “I want that, too.”

He sighs and reaches out to wipe away her tears. “Then we’ll go over your research. We’ll see if there’s anything we can do.”

 

———

 

The living room is a chaotic mess around them; furniture askew, picture frames and art carelessly set aside, lamps scattered on the floor casting odd shadows, all of it moved aside in a rush to clear the large wall in front of them.

Stiles slings his arm around Lydia’s shoulder as his eyes flit across wall, now covered in newspaper articles, old photos, and pages and pages of printed research. There’s so much of it that it’s dumbfounding and he grows more and more anxious the longer he follows the red strings he’d strung up under Lydia’s direction back and forth across it all.

“So all of this leads back to the Nemeton?”

“And to this.” She steps out of his hold and picks up the last piece of paper, tattered and yellowed, carefully tacking it to the wall right under the picture of the tree stump where almost every string points to.

Stiles furrows his brow as he tries to figure out it’s place in everything. “What language is that?”

“Gaelic.”

His eyes light up at that. “That’s the origin of Darach and Druid.“

“They have roots in Scottish and Irish languages and cultures, yes. Nemeton does as well,” she finishes for him, turning to look up at him. “All of those are part of Celtic lore and this mentions all of them. I can only understand bits and pieces but it seems to tie together everything.”

Stiles nods, studying her carefully to gauge her reaction to the question he can’t stop himself from asking. “You know Banshees are part of Irish mythology— Does it mention you in there, too?”

“No references to banshees that I can find.” Shrugging a shoulder, she looks up at him helplessly. “Deaton will have to tell us for sure.”

Stiles feels completely uneasy with her answer but forces himself to let it go for now. He sighs and looks back at the wall, still overwhelmed at it all. “So what’s your theory here, Lyds? What do you think this means?”

“I can’t know for sure but I think — I think this is a ritual.”

“A ritual?”

“The commands, the incantations… All of it is very formal, very reverential. It feels like something of importance. Like part of a ceremony.” Lydia trails her eyes across the ancient text with bright eyes. “Hopefully it’s a way to undo everything that the Nemeton is.”

“God… That would be…”

“I know.”

Stiles nods, dumbfounded as he focuses in on the simple, worn piece of paper, already digging in his pocket for his phone. “I’ll call Deaton.”

 

———

 

Slowly the emissary wanders back and forth in front of the wall, the ancient text between his fingers as he carefully studies each and every word. Finally his feet come a halt before the human and the banshee and a after a few tense moments he looks up and gives them a reluctant nod.

“You’re right. This is a ritual,” Deaton confirms and for a moment the couple is down right elated before he continues on, ”It’s just not the kind of ritual that you are looking for. Actually this is meant to do the complete opposite; a ritual a Darach could use to harness the power of the Nemeton for themselves.”

“Oh,” Lydia exhales, crestfallen as she accepts the paper back from Deaton with her eyes downcast.

“What you need is something that will wipe the slate clean. Something that will neutralize everything that has been done to give power to the Nemeton in the first place.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to find something like that?” Stiles demands.

Deaton shrugs and looks hesitantly between the two of them. “Maybe you don’t need to find it.”

Lydia’s eyes widen and snap up to his, the implication behind his words making her heart race.

“Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you have a way to stop the Nemeton? You’ve had a way to stop it this whole time and you never—“

“Stiles,” Lydia cuts him off urgently, squeezing his hand as she turns back to Deaton. “There’s a catch isn’t there?”

“There always is,” he answers with a wry smile. “See, the Nemeton gives and takes power through blood and death. It was the Paige’s blood that reignited it’s power when Derek killed her. The sacrifices Scott, Stiles, and Allison preformed pushed it into overdrive. It will take another sacrifice to end it.”

“Another sacrifice?” Stiles scoffs in disbelief. “If you didn’t notice, there have been multiple murders at the Nemeton over the last couple months. Did any of those help anything? I don’t think so.”

Deaton shakes his head, looking almost apologetically at the human before he continues. “Not just any sacrifice. It would take a certain type of sacrifice for this ritual to work: the rare blood of an immune to inoculate the ancient tree against the powers of the supernatural.”

For a moment the words hang in the air of the room, the information so overwhelming for a moment it’s suffocating.

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Stiles quips once it’s sunk it, letting out a humorless laugh and shaking his head ruefully to himself. “At least now we know and we can all just move on—“

“How much blood?”

He turns sharply toward the banshee at her question, betrayal shining in his incredulous gaze. _“Lydia—“_

“It’s not just the blood that makes it work,” Deaton continues, intrigued by the banshee’s question. “It’s the sacrifice as well. To quell the power of something as strong as the Nemeton is, it needs to be both.”

“And why can’t we trick it?” Lydia demands, pointedly ignoring Stiles’s glare burning into the side of her face. “Why can’t you use some of my blood for the ritual and sacrifice me the same way Scott, Stiles, and Allison sacrificed themselves?”

“Because that’s insane! We’re not putting you in danger like that again!” he bellows at her, suddenly panicking when she refuses to look at him. He turns desperately to Deaton. “Tell her we’re not doing that!”

Deaton hesitates, furrowing his brow in thought as he looks over the banshee. “It could work.”

“No.”

Lydia finally lifts her gaze to his and he knows the second he sees her big green eyes that she’s already made up her mind. 

“Stiles—“

_“No.”_

It feels like his world is crashing down on him as he rips his hand out of hers and storms out of the room. He can’t seem to take a good breath as he rushes through the foyer and out the front door, stopping in the front yard and dropping his hands to his knees as he greedily gulps at the fresh air. 

It’s only a few seconds before he feels her fingers on the back of his neck, skimming through his hair, and he wants to scream at how unfair everything is. 

“I knew it. I knew it was going to be like this.” 

“Stiles…” 

He straightens himself back up, looking down at her through glassy eyes. “We can’t do that. I can’t do that to you. I won’t.” 

Her fingers slide down his side as he stands and she winds them around his wrist, gripping it tight. “You have to.” 

Vehemently he shakes his head at her, opening his mouth to argue before she beats him to it. 

“Stiles, you know how strong our connection is. It pulled me back to Beacon Hills and to you when I didn’t remember anything. It gave me back my memories when I screamed for you. It kept you safe when you did this exact ritual to find your father back when we were nowhere near as close as we are today. You have to believe it’s strong enough for this now.” 

“I don’t doubt us. Not for a second,” he swears to her, the strength in his voice unwavering. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a huge risk in this.” 

She falls silent, stepping closer to him so she can reach up and bracket his face in her hands. “I know what it’s like to lose you Stiles. To think that you’re gone forever; that you’re dead… I won’t do that to you ever if I can help it.” 

He closes his eyes and she runs her thumb slowly back and forth across his cheek. 

“I believe this will work. Our connection was strong enough to cause a rift in the ghost riders world. It’s strong enough to beat the Nemeton. I believe in us, Stiles. I believe in _you_. You’ll keep me safe like you always do.” 

With a shaky breath he opens his eyes, amber irises swimming as he looks down at her. 

“Please, Stiles. We could make everything safer for so many people; for your dad, for Scott… We could have a chance at a normal life together.” 

Stiles blinks and his tears spill over, his hands trailing up to curl over her wrists. “I wish it didn’t have to be you. I wish I could do it for you.” 

The corner of her lips turns up a him sadly. “We're doing this together. You and me. We both know this doesn’t work without the other.” 

Sighing, he reaches out and pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her. “If we do this, you have to tell me if you get any kind of banshee feelings whatsoever. Promise that you’ll tell me and you won’t let yourself actually be sacrificed for this. I won’t be able to handle it, okay? You have to promise you won’t leave me.” 

She hugs him back fiercely, feeling suddenly lighter when she realizes they’re really doing this. Her lips brush against his ear as she whispers, “I promise.” 

 

———

 

Scott looks over the papers strewn on Deaton’s examination table, his mouth settling into a resigned frown. “There’s no chance this could make things worse?” 

“There’s always a chance, Scott,” the vet answers cryptically. “However, it’s highly improbable. I believe there are only two likely outcomes, either the ritual works and the supernatural beacon will be destroyed or things will remain as they are now and have been since you all were teenagers. Since Lydia’s sacrifice isn’t an attempt to harness or use the power of the Nemeton it shouldn’t feed into the strength it already has if the ritual doesn’t work.” 

Nodding, Scott looks up and settles his gaze on Stiles. “And you’re okay with this?” 

Stiles nods, holding back an eye roll because his best friend knows him way too well. “I wasn’t at first but we’ve talked about it. I know I can keep Lydia tethered. To me, that’s the only risk there is to consider.” 

Lydia squeezes Stiles’s hand tight before turning to Scott. “This is worth it, Scott. We need to do this.” 

The alpha drops his gaze to the table again, looking over everything one final time before nodding his consent. “So what do you want me to do?” 

“You’ll be accompanying me to the Nemeton to help with the ritual,” Deaton informs him. “Kira could be useful in that respect as well.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be willing to help.” 

“And we’ll need your mom’s help too,” Lydia speaks up. “Deaton needs some of my blood to complete the ritual.” 

Scott nods in understanding. “I’ll call and ask her to bring some supplies here. When should I tell her we’re doing this?” 

“Tonight.” 

_The three members of the pack turn to the vet in varying degrees of surprise._

“Tonight?” Stiles repeats wide eyed. “Shouldn’t we take some time to really hammer out the details of this thing before running out and haphazardly trying to fumble through this?” 

“Nothing about this is haphazard, Stiles, I assure you. I’ve known about this ritual for well over a decade. There’s nothing for me to learn. Most importantly, tonight happens to be the new moon and a moonless sky is the optimal time to undertake a ritual of this nature. We could delay this until the next new moon but —“ 

“Who knows what horrible thing the Nemeton could give power to in the mean time,” Lydia finishes for him, eyes pleading with Stiles to understand. 

The human sighs and swallows back his mounting anxiety. “Well, I guess we’re doing this tonight then.” 

 

———

 

Lydia has to look the other way as Melissa readies the needle, flinching at the pinch she feels as it slips into her skin. 

“Okay you’re all set,” Melissa assures her, gently patting her knee before she stands. “This will take about ten minutes so I’ll be back to check on you in a few, okay?” 

Nodding, she lets her head fall back against the wall behind her chair, feeling slightly dizzy all of the sudden. “Sure, sounds good.” 

Her gaze trails after Melissa as she walk away only to find her boyfriend hovering in the doorway to Deaton’s small office, watching her with glassy eyes and slightly pale skin. He holds the door open for Melissa before stepping inside fully and closing the door behind him. 

“You know, you don’t have to stay with me. I understand that you can’t handle needles.” 

“I know.” He settles into the chair at her side and carefully takes her hand while pointedly keeping his eyes focused on her and away from the medical equipment on her other side. “You okay?” 

She nods and rests her head against his shoulder. “Just a little dizzy.” 

“I think that’s pretty normal,” he assures her before kissing her hair. “Maybe it’d help to distract yourself. Think about something else.” 

“Like what?” 

“Well… Maybe you could think about the future.” Stiles shrugs the shoulder she’s not leaning on, thoughtfully chewing his lip as he fidgets with her fingers. “I mean, isn’t the point of doing all this that we’ll be able to do anything we want with our lives without worrying about what horrible thing is coming fur us next? We’ll have time to do things we’ve never even had time to think of.” 

“If it works.” 

“If it works,” he agrees softly. “You know, I’ve never even asked you if you want to have kids.” 

She opens her eyes and lifts her head from his shoulder, gazing up at him as she rests her head back against the wall. “I haven’t really thought about it. I know that I want us. I want a life with you. I want to help advance science and medicine while you solve cases and put away the bad guys. I want us to make a difference. We’ll help people and we’ll come home to each other, always. If I just want us, is that okay?” 

“Of course that’s okay. If that’s how our lives turn out then I’ll consider myself more than lucky. You’re the only thing in life I’ve always known I want, Lydia. I want us forever. Hell, I’d marry you tomorrow if I—“ 

“Okay,” Lydia suddenly cuts him off, her green eyes shining and sure. “Marry me tomorrow.” 

Stiles feels his heart skip a beat and has to swallow roughly to hold himself in check. “Lyds—“ 

“We’ll get through this, we’ll end this, and you’ll marry me tomorrow.” 

He grins at her, his heart soaring at her words even as he shakes his head. “When we get through this we’ll have all the time in the world. We won’t have to rush anything, okay?” 

A matching smile spreads across her face. “Okay.” 

Stiles kisses her temple before he lets go of her hand to wrap his arms around her shoulders instead, hugging her into his side. 

“Maybe we could get a dog though? I always wanted one but my dad would never even consider it. He thought I was too hyperactive to remember to take care of a pet.” 

“Smart man,” Lydia teases, rolling her eyes at him fondly. “I suppose we can get a dog.” 

“Yes! And we’ll it Luke or Leia or —“ 

“No Stars Wars names.” 

Stiles scoffs and puts a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “How dare you disparage the greatest movie franchise of all time. I mean, no offense Lyds, but you named your dog after a purse—“ 

“Hey, Prada does way more than purses,” she huffs. “Can’t we just pick a name together?” 

He smiles down at her. “Okay. Together.” 

There’s a gentle knock on the door and Melissa peaks her head in. “Everything going okay in here?” 

“Everything’s good.” 

The nurse lets herself in and checks Lydia’s arm and the bag of blood hanging at her side. “Okay, Lydia, I think we’ve got about as much as we can take.” 

She nods and looks at Stiles while Melissa removes the needle from her arm, helplessly smirking to herself when she sees the way Stiles clenches his eyes shut so tight to block it out. 

“It’s all done,” the nurse assures them, as she tapes a cotton ball into the crux of Lydia’s elbow. “You can open your eyes now, Stiles.” 

Carefully, he peeks open one eye and looks around hesitantly before finally relaxing back and opening the other. 

“Are you feeling alright, Lydia?” 

She nods at the nurse, though she still feels a little dizzy. “People usually have snacks after giving blood, don’t they?” 

“Of course. I swiped some orange juice and cookies from the hospital. They’re in my bag in the reception area.” 

“I’m on it.” Stiles jumps up and heads quickly out of the room. 

“You know, I’m supposed to head back to the hospital and finish my shift but I can stay until this is all over if you want me to,” Melissa offers quietly as she packs up. “Just incase.” 

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure? Because you seem a little… off.” 

Lydia gives her a wan smile. “Not about me, just — This has to work.” 

Melissa reaches out and squeezes her hand. “It will. Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen.” 

Stiles bursts back in the room with a little bottle of juice and a chocolate chip cookie, quickly handing over the food to Lydia and opening the drink for her. Deaton trails in after him while Scott and Kira wait anxiously in the doorway. 

“Well, I better get back,” the nurse announces as she hands over the pint of Lydia’s blood to Deaton. “I’m only a phone call away though if you need anything.” 

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers and pulls her into a hug. 

“Yes, thank you for everything, Melissa,” Lydia seconds, smiling sadly up at the nurse when the she pats her shoulder. 

“We should really get going, too,” Deaton speaks up, looking solemnly between Stiles and Lydia. “Everything is set up in the other room. You’ll need to add another bag of ice right before hand to make sure it’s cold enough.” 

Stiles quickly nods, anxiously wringing his hands. “I can do that.” 

“Remember, 12 o’clock sharp.” 

Both Lydia and Stiles nod at the agreed upon time, their eyes automatically trailing to the clock and counting the minutes until midnight. 

Scott and Kira step quietly into the small office to exchange lingering hugs and stilted goodbyes, the gravity of everything falling on everyone hard. The alpha forces himself to smile at the the human and the banshee when he steps back toward the door and wraps his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “We’ll see you guys soon.” 

Stiles nods and takes Lydia’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “See you, man.” 

Lydia gives the alpha a watery smile, nodding at him confidently before he turns and leads Kira out of the room. 

Deaton follows them out, pausing briefly to give them one last glance. 

“12 o’clock.” Stiles repeats by way of goodbye to the doctor, who simply nods before making his way to the exit and leaving the two of the alone. 

 

———

 

They pass the time in the clinic mostly in silence. In some ways, the time passes by excruciatingly slow yet in other ways it disappears all too fast. 

After a few minutes, Lydia’s dizziness fades and Stiles helps her to her feet, leading her into the examination room where the metal tub waits ominously in the middle of the room. 

Both of their feet falter, their gazes transfixed on the still, icy water. Lydia moves first, wrapping her arms fiercely around Stiles’s middle and burying her face against his chest. With a shuddering breath Stiles hugs her to him and carefully leads them to the wall where they slide listlessly down to the floor. 

Their limbs tangle as they cling together and the moment overwhelms them, both of them unsure of what to say because all their instincts tell them to say goodbye, just incase, but neither of them is willing to even begin down that path. So instead they listen to each other breathing, feel each other’s hearts pounding in their chests, and ground themselves in the feel of each other’s skin, all while trying to quell their racing thoughts as the minutes tick by. 

“Lydia,” Stiles finally breaks the silence and nods toward the clock when there is only a handful of minutes left. 

Numbly, she nods back, beginning to untangle herself from him before stopping abruptly to lean in and kiss him soft and sure on the corner of him mouth instead. He cradles her face reflexively, gently holding her closer. 

His amber eyes are shining when she pulls back, his gaze darting across her face before he kisses the tip of her nose. Then he reluctantly shifts away, pushes himself to his feet, and helps her up after him. 

Quietly they set to work, Lydia toeing off her shoes and removing her cardigan while Stiles gets the last bag of ice and pours it into the tub. 

“Ready?” 

She resolutely nods and takes the hand he offers her, letting him hold her steady as she steps into the icy water. 

Instantly she starts shivering, her whole body shaking in protest as the ices floats around her knees. She squeezes his hand tighter and prepares herself to sink down before a sudden thought in the back of her mind stops her. 

“Wait, Stiles—“ 

The frantic edge to her voice has him instantly thinking the worst, scared out of his mind that she’s having a banshee feeling about all of this. “What? What is it, Lyds?” 

“Your keys. I need your keys.” 

“My keys?” he repeats dumbly, digging in his pocket and pulling them out. 

Immediately Lydia snatches them from his hand, sighing in relief as her fingers find the correct one and wrap around the jagged metal. 

“What do you need those for?” 

“To help keep me focused. You love that Jeep. It was your relic, you know? It helped us find you.” 

Nodding, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around the fist she has closed around his keys, bringing it to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Then don’t let go of it, okay? I won’t let go of you.” 

She nods, eyes filling up because even though she’s sure she’ll be okay, she’s can’t help the nervousness pooling in her stomach. 

“It’s almost midnight, Lyds, you gotta…” he reminds her reluctantly, nodding toward the water she’s standing in. 

“I know, just— It’ll be okay.” 

“I know. I trust you.” 

Her heart swells as she looks into the steadiness of his amber irises. With renewed determination, she finally turns around and sits carefully down in the icy water, hissing as the cold seeps into her skin. 

Stiles hands settle on her shoulders and he leans over her, pressing his forehead against the top of her head. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He pulls back because he has to, gently squeezing her shoulders. “Okay, here we go.” 

She closes her eyes and grips his keys tight in her hand. 

“On the count of three,” he whispers, his heart thumping out of control. “1… 2… 3…” 


End file.
